THE  WIT  AND  HUMOR 
OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


THE  WIT 
AND  HUMOR  OF 
COLONIAL  DAYS 

(1607—1800) 
BY 

CARL  HOLLIDAY 

ACTING    PHOFE880B   OF    ENGLISH,  VANDERBILT    UNIVERSITY 

AUTHOR  OF 

"A  HISTORY    OF    SOUTHERN    LITERATURE,"    "THE    COTTON 
PICKER    AND    OTHER    POEMS,"    "  ONCE    UPON  A    TIME," 

"THREE  CENTURIES  OF  SOUTHERN  POETRY."  "THE 

LITERATURE    OF    COLONIAL   VIRGINIA,"  "THE 

CAVALIER   POETS,"    "THE   DEVELOPMENT 

OF  ENGLISH  FICTION  "  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA    &    LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BT  J.  B,  UPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PUBLISHED  MARCH,  19x3 


PRINTED   BT  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE   WASHINGTON   SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.A. 


To 
THE  MEMORY 

OP 
MARK   TWAIN 


241159 


Hail,  rosy  laughter !  thou  deserv'st  the  bays ! 
Come,  with  thy  dimples,  animate  these  lays, 
While   universal   peals   attest   thy   praise. 
Daughter  of  Joy!   thro'  thee   we  health  attain, 
When  Esculapian  recipes  are  vain. 

Jonathan  Mitchell  Sewall   (1748-1808) 

of  New  Hampshire 


PREFACE 


If  there  is  any  branch  of  literature  in  which 
America  has  excelled  other  modern  nations,  it 
is  humor.  It  is  doubtful,  for  instance,  whether 
any  other  nation  has  produced  during  the  last 
half-century  a  wit  surpassing  Josh  Billings  in 
shrewd  sarcasm,  Artemus  Ward  in  ridiculous 
extravagance,  or  Mark  Twain  in  solemn  state 
ment  of  the  outrageously  untrue.  This  ability 
in  the  American,  however,  of  "  seeing  the 
point  "  is  by  no  means  a  development  of  the 
last  half-century.  It  is  as  old  as  the  nation. 
The  colonists  had  scarcely  landed  in  Virginia 
before  witty  letters  telling  of  ludicrous  sights 
and  mishaps  in  the  raw  settlement  began  to  go 
back  to  England ;  while  in  New  England  there 
soon  was  heard  a  taunting  satire  like  that  of 
the  Hebrew  prophets  of  old.  Nor  has  the 
stream  of  wit  and  humor  once  ceased  from  that 
day  to  this.  Faithfully,  too,  this  type  of  lit 
erature  has  served  the  nation  in  every  crisis. 
It  has  ridiculed  our  foes,  encouraged  our  defend- 


PREFACE 


ers,  and  turned  the  hardships  of  war  into  causes 
of  merriment.  In  great  political  struggles  it 
has  laughed  hypocrisy,  bombast,  and  danger 
ous  movements  out  of  court.  In  times  of  peace 
it  has  proved  its  value  in  maintaining  decent 
standards,  in  driving  silly  and  foppish  ten 
dencies  from  our  midst,  and  in  showing  us  our 
selves  as  we  really  are. 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  and  in  spite,  also, 
of  the  variety  and  richness  of  the  humor  which 
we  have  added  to  the  world  >s  literature,  there 
has  been  scarcely  a  line  written  concerning  its 
development  in  this  nation.  Other  peoples, 
notably  the  French  and  the  English,  possess 
such  studies  of  their  fun-makers;  but  here  in 
America,  where  everybody  is  something  of  a 
humorist,  students  of  literature  seem  to  have 
looked  upon  the  subject  as  one  beneath  the  dig 
nity  of  serious  investigation.  Surely  the  ele 
ment  which  has  entered  into  the  very  woof  of 
our  literature  and  which  has  become  a  dis 
tinguishing  characteristic  of  us  as  a  nation  is 
worthy  of  no  small  attention. 

In  the  present  work  I  trace  the  course  of  our 
wit  and  humor  from  the  days  of  the  first  settle 
ment  up  to  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 

6 


PREFACE 


tury.  At  some  future  time  I  hope  to  continue 
the  story  through  two  other  periods,  dealing  in 
the  one  with  the  Early  National  Humor  up  to 
the  Civil  War,  and  in  the  other  with  Modern 
American  Humor.  In  the  volume  now  pre 
sented  I  believe  I  show  that  the  current  idea 
of  colonial  sombreness  is,  happily,  very  incor 
rect;  that  our  forefathers  of  Revolutionary 
days  enjoyed  a  laugh  and  often  indulged;  and 
that  their  wit  and  humor  did  a  work  in  the 
founding  and  maintaining  of  the  Eepublic  not 
yet  recognized  even  in  the  more  detailed  his 
tories  on  this  period. 

In  several  instances  I  am  indebted  to 
Duyckinck's  Cyclopedia  of  American  Litera 
ture  and  to  those  admirable  works  by  Moses 
Coit  Tyler,  A  History  of  American  Literature 
during  the  Colonial  Times,  and  The  Literary 
History  of  the  American  Revolution.  With 
out  these  books  I  could  hardly  have  secured 
some  of  the  biographical  details  contained  in 
this  volume.  My  thanks  for  assistance  most 
kindly  rendered  are  due  Miss  Mary  Hannah 
Johnson,  Librarian  of  the  Nashville  Carnegie 
Library,  and  Dr.  Eichard  Jones,  recently  of 
Vanderbilt  University. 

7 


PREFACE 


Now,  in  conclusion,  if  you,  the  "  gentle 
reader,"  fail  to  see  the  humor  of  the  old  times, 
as  discussed  in  this  book,  I  pray  you  remember 
the  words  of  Shakespeare,  that 

"  A  jest's  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 

Of  him  that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  it." 


CABL  HOLLIDAY 


VANDERBILT  UNIVERSITY 
NASHVILLE,   TENNESSEE 


CONTENTS 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 

PAGE 

I.  Question  as  to  the  first  American  humorist — John 

Pory  —  Francis  Higginson  —  William  Wood  — 
Nathaniel  Ward  —  His  training  and  early 
career — His  coming  to  America — His  Simple 
Cobbler  of  Aggawam — His  views  on  fashions, 
women,  tailors,  the  Irish — Ward's  sincerity. ...  15 

II.  Many  wits  unnoticed — Thomas  Mbrton — Strange 

epitaphs — William  Wood's  New  England  Pros 
pect — His  descriptions  of  animals  and  Indians — 
George  Alsop's  Character  of  Maryland — Mary 
land  lawyers,  girls,  and  Indians — Ebenezer  Cook's 
Sot  Weed  Factor — Cook's  opinion  of  Maryland 
planters  and  lawyers — His  description  of  An 
napolis — A  colonial  court 29 

HI.  A  comparison  of  Northern  and  Southern  colonial 
conditions — William  Byrd — His  early  training — 
His  public  life — His  shrewdness  and  wit — His 
History  of  the  Dividing  Line — Progress  to  the 
Mines — Journey  to  the  Land  of  Eden — His  sar 
castic  comments  on  North  Carolinians — Descrip 
tion  of  a  native — His  witty  comparisons 43 

IV.  Two  wits  of  old  Boston— Mather  Byles— His 
early  career — His  church-trial — His  gift  of  pun 
ning — His  rival,  Joseph  Green — Green's  Enter 
tainment  for  a  Winter's  Evening — The  Death  of 
9 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Mr.  Old  Tenor — Byles'  Hymn  Written  during  a 
Voyage — Green's  parody  on  it — Byles'  parody 
on  the  parody — The  significance  of  their  work. . .  53 

V.  Dr.    William    Douglass — His    merciless    wit — His 

estimate  of  colonial  physicians — His  views  on 
religion — Nathaniel  Ames — His  Astronomical 
Diary  and  Almanac — His  use  of  sayings,  advice, 
etc. — The  influence  of  his  Almanac — Ben  Frank 
lin's  indebtedness  to  it 65 

VI.  Famous    men    and    folk-lore — Benjamin    Frank 
lin — A    summary    of    his    life    and    deeds — His 
shrewdness — His  youthful   humor — Paper — Poor 
Richard's  Almanac — Father  Abraham's  Speech — 
His  humor  useful — The  oyster  joke — His  Auto 
biography — Its  making — Franklin's  readiness  of 
wit— The   "hanging"  joke— The  hat  joke— The 
king    joke — Advice    to    an    alderman — Dialogue 
with  the  Gout — Franklin's  Revolutionary  satires — 
Rules  for  Reducing  a  great  Empire — An  Edict 
by  the  King  of  Prussia — Instructions  from  the 
Count    de    Schaumbergh — Franklin's    sincerity — 
Bancroft's  opinion  of  him 70 

THE   HUMOR   OF   THE    REVOLUTION 

I.  War  and  satire — A  True  and  Historical  Narrative 

of  Georgia — Tea  and  satire — The  American 
Chronicles  of  the  Times — The  growing  dislike  of 
things  British — An  address  to  the  Troops  in 
Boston — A  New  Song  to  an  Old  Tune — Broad 
sides  against  Howe,  Burgoyne,  and  Arnold 91 

II.  Wit     conflicts    between     Tories    and     patriots — 

Witherspoon's  parody  on  Rivington's  petition , . ,     103 
10 


CONTENTS 


PAQB 

III.  Tory  satires  not  equal  to  patriots' — Reasons  for 
this — The    "  association "    oath,    a    subject    for 
satire — The    Pausing    American    Loyalist — Tory 
contempt    for    continentals — The    Congress — The 
Rebels — The    use    of    personalities — Tom    Paine 
as  a  subject — A  Modern  Catechism — The  decline 

of  Tory  humor 107 

IV.  Yankee  use  of  British  satire — Yankee  Doodle — 
The  antiquity  of  the  tune — Its  use  by  the  con 
tinentals — The  Battle  of  King's  Mountain — News 
paper  wit — Taxation  of  America — The  Fate  of 
John  Burgoyne — The  Dance — The  effect  of  humor 

in  time  of  war 114 

V.  The  leaders  in  Toiy  wit — The  roughness  of  Revo 

lution  humor — Jonathan  Odell — His  life — His 
song  for  King  George's  birthday — His  opinion 
of  satire — The  Word  of  Congress — The  Congrat 
ulation — The  Feu  de  Joie — The  American  Times 
— Odell's  fierceness — His  hatred  of  democracy — 
His  opinion  of  American  statesmanship — He  deals 
in  personalities — His  continued  hatred  of  the 
United  States  124 

VI.  Joseph   Stansbury — His  life — His  gentle  humor 
— His  satire  on  Clinton — His  "happy"  poem — 

His  convivial  verse — His  exile  song 137 

VII.  The  public  solemnness  of  colonial  statesmen — 
Francis    Hopkinson — John    Adams'    opinion    of 
him — Moses    Coit    Tyler's    praise    of    him — His 
life— His  Battle  of  the  Kegs—Ttis  bitter  letter  to 
Galloway — His  Letter  written  by  a  Foreigner — 
Its  view  of  English  ignorance — His  Pretty  Story 

11 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

— Its  liveliness  and  timeliness — His  dainty  lyrics 
— The  Birds,  the  Beasts,  and  the  Bat— The 
Wasp — Hopkinson's  ability  to  squelch  Tories — 
His  Prophecy — His  taunts  for  Rivington — His 
effectiveness 145 

VIII.  Philip     Freneau,     "the     human    wasp" — His 
delicate  verses — Plagiarized  by  Scott,  Campbell, 
and   Hunter — His  youthful  lines — His  career — 
Tyler's  description  of  him — His  bitter  hatred  of 
the   British — O'Connor's   Answer — His   Song   of 
Thyrsis — His   poem   on    Sancho — A   Prophecy — 
His  ferocious  outbursts  of  1775    (On  the  Con 
quest   of   Amercia — General    Gage's   Soliloquy — 
The  Midnight  Consultations — Lib  era  Nos,  Domine 
— Mac       Swig  gen) — Their       biting       sarcasm — 
America  Independent — Its  curse  on  the  British 
— His  master  satire,  The  British  Prison  Ship — 
Its  description  of  British  cruelty — The  Political 
Balance — Jove's  opinion  of  England — Freneau's 
reply  to  King  George — His  faith  in  America. . .     170 

IX.  John    Trumbull — The   origin   of  his  name — His1 
amazing   precocity — His    training   at   Yale — His 
Meddler    essays — Isabella    Sprightly's    auction — 
The  Correspondent  essays — The  Progress  of  Dul- 
ness — Its  bitter  truthfulness — The  Prophecy   of 
Balaam — The  Destruction  of  Babylon — An  Elegy 
on    the    Times — The   writing   of   McFingal — The 
three   phases   of   The   Progress   of  Dulness — Ita 
application   to   modern   educational   conditions — 
The  plot  of  McFingal — Compared  with  Butler's 
Hudibras — Its  permanent  merits   199 

12 


CONTENTS 


THE   HUMOR   OF   THE   REPUBLIC 

I.  The  origin  of  the  Hartford  "Wits— Yale  vs.  Har 

vard — Leading  members  of  the  "  Wits " — Sub 
jects  for  their  satire — The  Wits,  mainly  Fed 
eralists — Their  praise  of  one  another — Their 
fight  for  Union — Their  satires  on  Jefferson — 
Three  divisions  of  their  writings— The  An- 
archiad — Its  romantic  origin — Its  denunciation 
of  Jeffersonian  democracy  —  The  Echo  —  It 
squelches  the  fakes — Its  dislike  for  the  French — 
A  newspaper  thunder-storm — The  Political 
Green-House — The  dissolution  of  the  Wits. . . .  227 

II.  The     Hartford     Wits     as     individuals— Timothy 

Dwight — David  Humphreys — His  career — His 
Happiness  of  America — The  Monkey 245 

III.  Joel   Barlow — His   college   and   army   days — He 
revises  Watts'  Psalms — His  Vision  of  Columbus 
i — His    Scioto   Land   advertisement — His    strenu 
ous  career  in  France — Song  of  the  Guillotine — 
Barlow  made  minister  to  France — His  pathetic 
death — His    Advice    to    a    Eaven    in    Russia — 
Hasty  Pudding — Its  praise  of  democracy — Com 
pared  to  Snowbound  and  Cotter's  Saturday  night.     252 

IV.  Richard  Alsop — His  early  work — His  gentle  wit 
— His  parody   on   Governor  Hancock's   message 
against  theatres  262 

V.  Theodore    Dwight — Lemuel    Hopkins — His   eccen 

tricities — His  satire  on  Ethan  Allen — The 
Victim  of  the  Cancer  Quack — The  effect  of  the 
Hartford  Wits  267 

VI.  Democratic   replies   to   the  Wits — Hugh   Brack- 

13 


CONTENTS 


PAQH 

enridge — His  varied  and  useful  life — His  drama, 
Bunker  Hill — Brackenridge  and  General  Lee — 
Six  Political  Discourses — Brackenridge  in  the 
Whiskey  Rebellion — Modern  Chivalry — Its  fame 
— Brackenridge  makes  Washington  laugh — 
Modern  Chivalry,  a  rebuke  to  too  much  liberty — 
The  laughable  experiences  of  Teague  O'Regan — 
Closeness  of  American  humor  to  American  his 
tory — Plentifulness  of  humor  in  later  colonial 
days — Washington's  attempts  at  wit 272 

THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

I.  The  colonists  and  the  theatre — The  first  American 

play,  The  Prince  of  Parthia — Ponteach — Disen 
chantment — Sewall's  The  Americans  Roused — 
Mercy  Warren's  Adulator  and  The  Group — Their 
sarcasm  toward  the  Tories — The  Fall  of  British 
Tyranny — Its  amusing  pictures  of  British  per 
plexity — The  Block-heads — The  first  American 
comedy,  The  Contrast,  by  Royall  Tyler— The 
author's  career — His  May  Day  and  Good  Spec — 
The  Contrast  rebukes  modern  "  depravity " — 
The  heartiness  of  early  American  drama — The 
use  of  lyrics — The  "  Sleighing  Song  " — Dun- 
lap's  Leicester — His  Father  of  an  Only  Child — 
Its  naturalness  and  humor 289 

II.  Conclusion    307 

Bibliography 309 

Index  . 317 


THE  WIT  AND  HUMOR 
OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


The  usual  way  to  begin  a  book  dealing  with 
humor  is,  I  believe,  to  make  a  painstaking  dis 
crimination  between  wit  and  humor.  This,  how 
ever,  I  decline  to  do,  for  two  reasons:  First, 
because  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  or  make 
a  very  good  definition  of  either;  and,  second, 
because  any  reader  who  has  not  the  ability  to 
know  either  one  when  he  sees  it  doubtless  would 
not  possess  acumen  enough  to  understand  any 
such  discussion  as  I  might  undertake.  This 
book  is  not  intended  for  his  kind,  anyway. 

I  intend  simply  to  tell  of  the  development  of 
humor  among  our  forefathers  from  their  com 
ing  in  1607  to  the  days  when  their  children  had 
the  Republic  in  pretty  fair  working  order,  say, 

15 


OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


about  1800;  in  short,  as  a  ballad  of  the  times 
puts  it, 

"  When  these  free  states  were  colonies 

Unto  the  mother  nation; 
And  in  Connecticut  the  good 
Old  Blue  Laws  were  in  fashion." 

And,  now,  not  to  waste  time  on  preliminaries, 
let  us  hasten  back  to  those  "Pilgrim  Father" 
days,  choose  a  sarcastic  Puritan,  and  smile  with 
him,  or  at  him. 

Who  cracked  the  first  joke  in  America?  The 
early  records  do  not  state.  We  are  not  even 
quite  sure  as  to  the  first  American  who  tried  to 
be  funny  on  paper.  Of  course,  some  of  the 
very  earliest  colonists  in  both  Virginia  and 
New  England  wrote  humorous  and  sarcastic 
accounts  back  home,  and  the  ludicrous  situa 
tions  portrayed  in  these  are  not  lost  upon  us 
of  a  later  date.  One  might  call  to  mind  John 
Pory  of  the  Jamestown  settlement,  whose  let 
ters  to  the  "  home  folks  "  were  quaintly 
witty;  Francis  Higginson,  sturdy  old  New 
Englander,  in  his  "  True  Eelation  "  (1629), 
and  his  "  New  England  Plantations  "  (1629), 
sometimes  came  dangerously  near  joking;  and 

16 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


some  students  of  American  literature  would 
say  that  William  Wood  of  Massachusetts,  by 
his  sprightly  "New  England's  Prospect" 
(1634),  deserves  the  place  as  first  of  the 
numerous  ' '  fathers  of  American  humor. ' '  But 
the  first  man  to  do  it  with  malice  aforethought 
and  with  the  intention  of  publishing  also,  seems 
to  have  been  the  New  England  preacher 
Nathaniel  Ward  (1578-1652). 

NATHANIEL  WARD 

The  first  of  our  American  satirists  was  no 
mere  laughing  fool.  Few  men  of  those  grave 
and  stubborn  colonial  days  had  received  a  bet 
ter  mental  training  for  civil  and  theological 
strife,  and  few  had  held  themselves  more  per 
sistently  to  an  uncomfortably  stormy  career. 
Your  true  Puritan  fought  sin  and  everything 
else  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Nathaniel  Ward 
was  not  an  exception.  He  graduated  at 
Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge,  and  old 
Bishop  Fuller  has  spoken  of  him  as  one  of  the 
most  learned  writers  in  the  ancient  institution. 
But  his  was  a  knowledge  far  wider  than  the 
range  of  books.  He  had  travelled  the  nations 
of  Europe  and  had  conversed  with  their  lead- 

2  17 


'AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


ers  ;  he  had  attended  the  lectures  of  that  daring 
theologian,  Paraeus  of  Heidelberg;  he  was  a 
good  friend  of  Francis  Bacon's;  and  he  had 
been  so  intimate  with  royalty  that  he  had  held 
in  his  arms  the  infant  Prince  Eupert,  the  swag 
gering  cavalier  of  Cromwell's  day. 

For  some  years  Ward  had  been  a  lawyer,  and 
if  the  trend  of  the  times  had  not  been  toward 
religious  discussions,  his  subtle  reasoning 
power*  might  have  made  him  one  of  the  greatest 
jurists  of  the  century.  But  the  question 
"  What  think  ye  of  Christ?  "  was  on  every 
man's  lips,  and  Ward  felt  called  upon,  like 
many  another  brilliant  intellect  of  that  stern 
era,  to  explain  the  Higher  Law.  For  ten  years 
he  fervently  "  wagged  his  pow  in  a  pulpit  "  — 
ten  stormy  years  harassed  by  the  watchful  eye 
of  that  terror  of  lax  Churchmen,  Archbishop 
Laud,  who  sent  innumerable  bits  of  advice  and 
innumerable  warnings  to  the  little  rectory  at 
Stondon  Massey  in  Essex;  for  the  future 
pioneer  of  American  satire  was  a  trifle  too 
original  in  his  theological  views  to  suit  the 
theologically  sensitive  old  bishop,  and  the  tenor 
of  their  way  was  not  always  that  of  brotherly 
love. 

18 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


At  length  the  crisis  came.  In  1633  the  Arch 
bishop  summoned  the  rector,  bitterly  rebuked 
him  for  having  anti-Christ  theories,  silenced 
him  (technically  but  not  actually),  and  excom 
municated  him  for  non-conformity.  Naturally 
Ward  looked  to  the  hills  of  Masachusetts, 
whence  came  his  help ;  everybody  who  dissented 
in  those  days  did  that.  And  so  it  happened 
that  early  in  1634  Nathaniel  Ward,  preacher, 
satirist,  and  ' '  pig-headed  ' '  citizen,  took  charge 
of  the  little  church  at  Aggawam  (now  Ipswich), 
Massachusetts,  and  began  to  impress  upon  the 
people  of  the  commonwealth  the  fact  that  some 
thing  in  the  nature  of  a  human  firebrand  had 
fallen  in  their  midst.  His  friends  called  it 
godly  zeal ;  but  his  enemies  designated  it  plain 
pig-headedness.  Perhaps  it  was  both. 

We  may  not  enter  into  a  detailed  account  of 
his  varied  activities ;  he  seemed  to  have  a  hand 
in  everything.  History  tells  us,  for  one  thing, 
that  he  helped  John  Cotton  and  other  Puritan 
leaders  draw  up  that  strange  code  of  laws  with 
the  misleading  title  of  "  Body  of  Liberties." 
This  decidedly  unhumorous  deed  was  done  in 
1641,  but  five  years  later  he  wrote,  doubtless  as 
a  recompense,  the  first  American  book  of 

19 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

humor,  the  Simple  Cobbler  of  Aggawam,  a 
work  showing  how  badly,  according  to  the  cob 
bler's  views,  the  world  was  theologically  and 
socially  out  of  joint.  Other  books  he  com 
posed,  but  as  they  deal  extensively  in  promises 
of  volcanic  landscapes  in  the  next  world,  they 
cannot  with  propriety  be  called  funny.  Ward 
returned  to  England  in  1647,  and  there,  in  1652, 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  several  of  whom 
were  preachers,  and  who  therefore  doubtless 
missed  entirely  the  scenery  just  mentioned,  or 
else  caught  but  distant  glimpses  of  it  from  the 
windows  of  the  Heaven-bound  observation  car. 

This  Simple  Cobbler  is  a  most  sarcastic  fel 
low.  It  turns  out  that  he  had  been  "  a  soli 
tary  widower  almost  twelve  years,"  and  per 
haps  that  explains  some  of  his  bitter  jokes.  He 
is  especially  biting  when  discussing  the  fash 
ions  affected  by  ladies  of  the  early  seventeenth 
century: 

"  Should  I  not  keep  promise  in  speaking  a 
little  to  women's  fashions,  they  would  take  it 
unkindly.  I  was  loath  to  pester  better  matter 
with  such  stuff ;  I  rather  thought  it  meet  to  let 
them  stand  by  themselves,  like  the  Quae  genus 

in  the  grammar,  being  deficients  or  redundants, 

20 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


not  to  be  brought  under  any  rule:  I  shall  there 
fore  make  bold  for  this  once,  to  borrow  a  lit 
tle  of  their  loose-tongued  Liberty,  and  mis 
spend  a  word  or  two  upon  their  long-waisted, 
but  short-skirted  Patience.  .  .  . 

Gray  Gravity  itself  can  well  beteem 
That  Language  be  adapted  to  the  theme. 
x  He  that  to  Parrots  speakes,  must  parrotise; 
He  that  instructs  a  Fool,  may  act  th'  unwise. 

"It  is  known  more  than  enough  that  I  am 
neither  Niggard,  nor  Cynic,  to  the  due  bravery 
of  the  true  gentry.  I  honor  the  woman  that 
can  honor  herself  with  her  attire;  a  good  text 
always  deserves  a  fair  margin ;  I  am  not  much 
offended  if  I  see  a  trim  fur  trimmer  than  she 
that  wears  it.  In  a  word,  whatever  Christian 
ity  or  Civility  will  allow,  I  can  afford  with 
London  measure ;  but  when  I  hear  a  nugiperous 
gentledame  inquire  what  dress  the  Queen  is  in 
this  week :  what  the  nudiustertian  fashion  of  the 
Court ;  with  egg  [desire]  to  be  in  it  in  all  haste, 
whatever  it  be ;  I  look  at  her  as  the  very  gizzard 
of  a  trifle,  the  product  of  a  quarter  of  a  cipher, 
the  epitome  of  Nothing,  fitter  to  be  kicked,  if 
she  were  a  kickable  substance,  than  either  hon 
ored  or  humored." 

21 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

It  is  evident  that,  besides  being  a  widower, 
friend  Ward  must  have  been  a  dyspeptic.  The 
world  is  out  of  joint,  and  woman  has  had  a 
large  share  in  this  anatomical  catastrophe. 
There  are  in  her  certain  traits  that  the  sarcas 
tic  Puritan  cannot  at  all  comprehend. 

"  To  speak  moderately, "  says  he,  "  I  truly 
confess  it  is  beyond  the  ken  of  my  understand 
ing  to  conceive  how  those  women  should  have 
any  true  grace  or  valuable  virtue,  that  have  so 
little  wit,  as  to  disfigure  themselves  with  such 
exotic  garb,  as  not  only  dismantles  their  native 
lovely  lustre,  but  transclouts  them  into  gant- 
bar-geese,ill-shapen,  shotten  shell-fish,  Egyptian 
hieroglyphics,  or  at  the  best  into  French  flurts 
of  the  pastery,  which  a  proper  English  woman 
should  scorn  with  her  heels.  It  is  no  marvel 
they  wear  drailes  on  the  hinder  part  of  their 
heads,  having  nothing  as  it  seems  in  the  fore 
part  but  a  few  squirrels'  brains  to  help  them 
frisk  from  one  ill-favored  fashion  to  another. 
...  I  can  make  myself  sick  at  any  time  with 
comparing  the  dazzling  splendor  wherewith 
our  gentle-women  were  embellished  in  some 
former  habits,  with  the  gut-foundered  goose- 

dom  wherewith  they  are  now  surcingled  and 

22 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


debauched.  We  have  about  five  or  six  of  them 
in  our  Colony ;  if  I  see  any  of  them  accidentally, 

I  cannot  cleanse  my  fancy  of  them  for  a  month 
after.  .  .  .  Methinks  it  should  break  the  hearts 
of  Englishmen  to  see  so  many  goodly  English 
women  imprisoned  in  French  cages  peering  out 
of  their  hood-holes  for  some  men  of  mercy  to 
help  them  with  a  little  wit,  and  nobody  relieves 
them." 

Now  and  again  Ward's  emotions  become  too 
fervid  for  prose:  he  bursts  into  poetry: 

II  The  world  is  full  of  care,  much  like  unto  a  bubble, 

Women  and  care,  and  care  and  Women, 
And  Women  and  care  and  trouble. " 

Thus  the  "  cobbler  9-  proceeds,  pegging  the 
foibles  of  his  day  and  oftentimes  speaking  with 
a  Franklin-like  bluntness  and  common-sense. 
In  fact,  there  is  considerable  resemblance  be 
tween  Ward's  ideas  and  expressions  and  those 
of  Poor  Richard.  While  paying  his  respects  to 
the  ladies  and  their  fashions  he  does  not  forget 
the  tailors.  He  fears  for  these  knights  of  the 
needle : 

"  It  is  a  more  common  than  convenient  say 
ing  that  nine  tailors  make  a  man;  it  were  well 

23 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

if  nineteen  could  make  a  woman  to  her  mind. 
If  tailors  were  men  indeed,  well  furnished  but 
with  mere  moral  principles,  they  would  disdain 
to  be  led  about  like  Apes,  by  such  mimic  Mar 
mosets.  It  is  a  most  unworthy  thing  for  men 
that  have  bones  in  them,  to  spend  their  lives  in 
making  fiddle  cases  for  futilous  women 's 
fancies;  which  are  the  very  pettitoes  of  in 
firmity,  the  giblets  of  perquisquilian  toys.  .  .  . 
It  is  no  little  labor  to  be  continually  putting  up 
English  women  into  outlandish  casks;  who  if 
they  be  not  shifted  anew  once  in  a  few  months, 
grow  too  sour  for  their  husbands.  What  this 
trade  will  answer  for  themselves  when  God 
shall  take  measure  of  tailors'  consciences  is 
beyond  my  skill  to  imagine.  .  .  .  He  that  makes 
coats  for  the  moon,  had  need  take  measure 
every  noon;  and  he  that  makes  for  women,  as 
often,  to  keep  them  from  lunacy." 

I  quote  thus  freely  from  Ward's  opinion  on 
women,  not  to  arouse  the  ire  of  the  female 
perambulating  fashion  plates  of  to-day,  but 
simply  to  show  that  the  stern  Pilgrim  fathers 
did,  after  all,  have  some  sort  of  humor,  even 
if  a  grim  sort.  Our  histories  so  often  leave 
the  impression  that  the  Puritan  was  merely  a 

24 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


funereal  creature,  the  deadly  enemy  of  mince- 
pie  and  plum-pudding,  that  it  is  well  to  refer 
to  the  ancient  writings  now  and  then  and  see 
for  ourselves  that  they  dared  to  smile,  and  that 
right  often. 

Many  were  the  faults  and  human  weaknesses 
attacked  by  this  first  of  American  satirists. 
Indeed,  he  seemed  to  look  upon  himself  as 
divinely  appointed  scolder  plenipotentiary  to 
the  world  at  large.  Hear  a  few  complimentary 
remarks  concerning  the  Hibernians: 

"  These  Irish,  anciently  called  Anthro 
pophagi  (man-eaters),  have  a  tradition  among 
them,  that  when  the  Devil  showed  our  Saviour 
all  the  Kingdoms  of  the  Earth  and  their  glory, 
he  would  not  show  him  Ireland,  but  reserved 
it  for  himself;  it  is  probably  true,  for  he  hath 
kept  it  ever  since  for  his  own  peculiar;  the  old 
Pox  foresaw  it  would  eclipse  the  glory  of  all 
the  rest.  .  .  .  They  are  the  very  offal  of  men, 
dregs  of  mankind,  reproach  of  Christendom, 
the  bots  that  crawl  on  the  beasts'  tail." 

We  must  not  think  that  Nathaniel  Ward  was 
a  satirist  and  nothing  else.  Often  he  turned 
from  his  scoffing  and  sarcasm  to  call  down  the 
curse  of  God  upon  England's  enemies  and  to 

25 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

speak  with  heartfelt  earnestness  of  the  folly 
and  sin  about  him.  Satire  and  humor  have 
ever  been  a  mighty  weapon  in  the  political, 
social  and  general  reform  movements  of  Amer 
ica,  and  this  first  American  book  of  wit  is  no 
exception.  Running  through  four  editions 
within  the  first  year  of  its  existence  and  arous 
ing  the  men  of  two  lands  to  a  determined  frame 
of  mind,  its  value  in  its  own  day  cannot  be 
doubted,  and  even  yet,  as  Tyler  declares  in  his 
History  of  American  Literature,  "  it  is  a  tre 
mendous  partisan  pamphlet,  intensely  vital, 
.  .  .  full  of  fire,  wit,  whim,  eloquence,  sarcasm, 
invective,  patriotism,  bigotry."  The  scolding, 
rabid  "  Simple  Cobbler  "  was  violently  in 
earnest;  the  day  of  judgment  was  at  hand. 
Hear  his  first  sentence:  "  Either  I  am  in  an 
apoplexy  or  that  man  is  in  a  lethargy,  who  doth 
not  now  sensibly  feel  God  shaking  the  heavens 
over  his  head  and  the  earth  under  his  feet." 
He  saw  political  ruin  threatening  England,  in 
sanity  hovering  over  every  woman,  and  heresy 
stalking  into  every  church.  Beware,  cried  he, 
beware  of  false  prophets !  ' '  He  usually  hears 
best  in  their  meetings,  that  stops  his  ears 
closest ;  he  opens  his  mouth  to  the  best  purpose 

26 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


that  keeps  it  shut ;  and  he  doeth  best  of  all  that 
declines  their  company  as  wisely  as  he  may. 
.  .  .  Here  I  hold  myself  bound  to  set  up  a  bea 
con  to  give  warning  of  a  new-sprung  sect  of 
phranta sties,  which  would  persuade  themselves 
and  others  that  they  have  discovered  the  Nor- 
West  passage  to  Heaven?  " 

Certainly  our  first  satirist  was  a  worshipper 
of  sincerity.  His  heart  was  in  his  book,  and 
he  spoke  straight  from  that  heart;  his  words 
need  no  interpreter.  Of  course,  his  learning 
got  the  better  of  him  at  times,  but  that  was  a 
common  fault  among  the  prose  writers  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  For  instance,  years  ago 
Professor  Moses  Coit  Tyler  defied  any  man  to 
explain  this  expression  of  Ward's:  "If  the 
whole  conclave  of  hell  can  so  compromise  ex- 
adverse  and  diametrical  contradictions  as  to 
compolitize  such  a  multimonstrous  maufrey  of 
heteroclites  and  quicquidlibets  quietly,  I  trust  I 
may  say  with  all  humble  reverence,  they  can  do 
more  than  the  senate  of  heaven. "  How  old 
Dr.  Johnson  would  have  enjoyed  that  sentence! 
But  we  have  seen  that  this  was  not  Ward's 
usual  manner  of  procedure;  for  his  soul  was 
too  heated  for  such  verbal  jugglery. 

27 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Thus  this  early  American  wit  lashed  the 
fallen  sons  of  Adam.  Wrong  he  often  was; 
narrow  we  must  consider  him  in  this  day; 
blindly  obstinate  his  enemies  thought  him  in  his 
own  time.  But  beneath  all  his  mistakes  and 
natural  failings  we  may  frequently  perceive 
that  same  plain,  homely  and  earthy  philosophy, 
that  assumed  yet  shrewd  simplicity,  which  have 
made  us  smile  with  Franklin  and  Josh  Billings 
and  Artemus  Ward  and  many  another  Ameri 
can  wiseacre.  It  has  been  a  valuable  and  bril 
liantly  original  brood  that  grumbling  old 
Nathaniel  Ward  fathered. 


II 


THOMAS  MORTON 

Eight  in  the  beginning  the  reader  must  un 
derstand  that  many  a  fledgling  wit  of  these  first 
days  must  go  unnoticed;  else  we  should  have 
a  work  as  large  as  a  family  Bible  and,  perhaps, 
just  as  grave  and  solemn.  One  is  tempted,  for 
instance,  to  linger  over  the  literary  efforts  of 
Thomas  Morton  (1634),  who  scandalized  all 
New  England  by  raising  a  May-pole  eighty  feet 
high  at  Merry  Mount,  brewing  "  a  barrel  of 
excellent  beer,"  and  shouting  with  his  com 
panions  such  Bacchanalian  verses  as 

"  Drink  and  be  merry,  merry,  merry,  boys, 
Let  all  your  delight  be  in  Hymen's  joys, 
lo  to  Hymen  now  the  day  is  come, 
About  the  Merry  May-pole  take  a  roame 

Nectar  is  a  thing  assign 'd, 

By  the  Deities  own  mind, 

To  cure  the  heart  opprest  with  grief, 

And  of  good  liquors  is  the  chief 

Then  drink,  etc. 

lo  to  Hymen,  etc." 

29 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

We  may  not  stay  to  wonder  over  the  many 
statements  in  his  quaint  volume  New  English 
Canaan;  such  as  his  interesting  discovery  that 
the  beaver  must  sit  "  in  his  house  built  on  the 
water  with  his  tayle  hanging  in  the  water, 
which  else  would  over-heate  and  rot  off." 

Then,  too,  we  should  find  much  cause  for  as 
tonishment  in  the  epitaphs  of  those  grave  days. 
When  Keverend  Mr.  Samuel  Stone  of  Hart 
ford  died,  a  friend  thus  sang  his  praise: 

"  A  stone  more  than  the  Ebenezer  fam'd; 

Stone  splendent  diamond,  right  orient  named; 
A  cordial  stone,  that  often  cheered  hearts 
With  pleasant  wit,  with  Gospel  rich  imparts; 
Whetstone,  that  edgify'd  th'  obtusest  mind; 
Loadstone  that  drew  the  iron  heart  unkind; 
A  pond'rous  stone,  that  would  the  bottom  sound 
Of  Scripture  depths,  and  bring  out  Arcan's  found ; 
A  stone  for  kingly  David's  use  so  fit, 
As  would  not  fail  Goliah's  front  to  hit." 

And  again,  when  John  Sherman  of  New 
Haven,  preacher,  mathematician,  almanac- 
maker,  and  father  of  twenty-six  children,  heard 
of  the  death  of  his  good  friend  Mitchell,  a  Har 
vard  pastor,  he  exclaimed  (after  due  thought 
and  many  poetic  pangs) : 

30 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


"  Here  lies  the  darling  of  his  time, 
Mitchell  expired  in  his  prime; 
Who  four  years  short  of  forty-seven, 
Was  found  full  ripe  and  pluck 'd  for  heaven." 

When  Thomas  Dudley,  father  of  our  first 
poetess,  Anne  Bradstreet,  came  to  his  death 
bed,  he  showed  where  his  daughter  had  received 
her  surprising  gift,  by  composing  such  farewell 
lines  as 

"  Dim  eyes,  deaf  ears,  cold  stomach  shew 
My  dissolution  is  in  view; 
Eleven  times  seven  near  lived  have  I, 
And  now  God  calls,  I  willing  die." 

Nor  may  we  stop  to  laugh  with  William 
Wood  over  the  quaint  wit  in  his  New  England's 
Prospect  (1634),  wherein  he  speaks  with  rare 
discernment  concerning 

"  The  kingly  Lion,  and  the  strong-armed  Bear, 
The  large-limbed  Mooses,  with  the  tripping  Deer; 
Quill-darting  Porcupines  and  Raccoons  be 
Castled  in  the  hollow  of  an  aged  tree; 

The  grim-face  Ounce,  and  ravenous,  howling  Wolf 
Whose   meagre   paunch   sucks   like   a   swallowing 
gulf." 

31 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

He  has  much,  also,  to  say  about  the  red  man : 
— very  amusing,  too,  save  to  an  Indian.  "  A 
sagamore  with  a  hum-bird  in  his  ear  for  a 
pendant,  a  black-hawk  on  his  occiput  for  his 
plume,  mowhackees  for  his  gold  chain,  good 
store  of  wampompeage  begirting  his  loins,  his 
bow  in  his  hand,  his  quiver  at  his  back,  with 
six  naked  Indian  spatter-lashes  at  his  heels  for 
his  guard,  thinks  himself  little  inferior  to  the 
great  Cham;  he  will  not  stick  to  say  he  is  all 
one  with  King  Charles.  He  .thinks  he  can  blow 
down  castles  with  his  breath,  and  conquer  king 
doms  with  his  conceit. " 

Those  were  strange  old  days  around  Boston 
town.  As  has  been  said  by  plain,  blunt  Benja 
min  Thompson  of  Harvard,  another  of  the 
colonial  wits  whom  we  must  neglect, 

"  'Twas  in  those  days  an  honest  grace  would  hold 
Till  an  hot  pudding  grew  at  heart  a-cold. 
And  men  had  better  stomachs  at  religion, 
Than  I  to  capon,  turkey-cock,  or  pigeon; 
When  honest  sisters  met  to  pray,  not  prate, 
About  their  own  and  not  their  neighbor's  state/* 

Doubtless  many  who  would  have  liked  to 
laugh  remained  to  pray,  and  learned  from  these 

32 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


pudding  spoilers  and  superhuman  women  to 
fear  all  signs  of  levity. 

The  habitual  humorist  was,  however,  not  such 
an  avis  rara  in  early  colonial  days  as  our  his 
tories  would  teach.  The  first  efforts  of  the 
Virginia  colony  were  so  full  of  disaster  and 
sorrow,  and  the  founders  of  the  New  England 
provinces  were  so  impressed  with  the  serious 
ness  of  life  that  the  gay  and  ridiculous  phases 
of  existence  received,  it  is  true,  but  little  public 
recognition,  or  at  least  but  little  literary  ex 
pression.  Nathaniel  Ward's  Simple  Cobbler 
appeared  in  1647.  In  1666  a  Virginia  colonist, 
George  Alsop  (1638-?),  published  in  London  a 
little  volume  entitled  A  Character  of  the  Prov 
ince  of  Maryland.  Here  again  we  find  a  rather 
successful  effort  to  be  humorous. 


GEORGE  ALSOP 

Alsop,  who  had  come  over  in  1658  and  had 
worked  for  four  years  in  Baltimore  county, 
Maryland,  had  seen  in  the  new  land  much  of  a 
surprising  nature,  and  here  and  there  through 
out  his  book  are  bits  of  description  with  the 

3  33 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

snap  and  originality  of  view  that  mark  a  man 
of  wit.  Hear  of  the  good  old  days  in  Mary 
land  : 

"  Here  if  the  lawyer  had  nothing  else  to 
maintain  him  but  his  howling,  he  might  button 
up  his  chaps,  and  burn  his  buckram  bag,  or  else 
hang  it  upon  a  pin  until  its  antiquity  had  eaten 
it  up  with  dirt  and  dust.  Then  with  a  spade, 
like  his  Grandsire  Adam,  turn  up  the  face  of 
Creation,  purchasing  his  bread  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brows,  that  before  was  got  by  the  motion- 
ated  water-works  of  his  jaws.  .  .  .  All  villainous 
outrages  that  are  committed  in  other  States, 
are  not  so  much  as  known  here.  A  man  may 
walk  in  the  open  woods  as  secure  from  being 
externally  dissected  as  in  his  own  house  or 
dwelling. ' ' 

We  can  easily  perceive  how  conscious  was 
Alsop's  effort  to  be  witty.  There  is  a  certain 
glibness  in  it  all,  a  wish  to  glitter,  a  desire  to 
put  thoughts  in  eye-catching  phrases.  Mary 
land  girls,  he  says,  are  rather  bashful  but  have 
much  common-sense.  "  All  complimental 
courtships,  dressed  up  in  critical  rareties,  are 
mere  strangers  to  them,  plain  wit  comes  near 
est  their  genius;  so  that  he  that  intends  to 

34 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


court  a  Mary-Land  girl  must  have  something 
more  than  the  tautologies  of  a  long  winded 
speech  to  carry  on  his  design,  or  else  he  may 
(for  aught  I  know)  fall  under  the  contempt  of 
her  frown  and  his  own  windy  oration. ' ' 

Moses  Coit  Tyler  has  declared  in  his  History 
of  American  Literature  that  "  there  was  but 
one  American  book  (The  Simple  Cobbler)  pro 
duced  in  the  seventeenth  century  that  for 
mirthful,  grotesque,  and  slashing  energy,  can 
compare  with  this."  The  volume  is  full  of 
"  wild  nonsense."  In  dedicating  the  work  to 
Lord  Baltimore,  Alsop  remarks  to  Maryland 
merchants,  "  This  dish  of  discourse  was  in 
tended  for  you  at  first,  but  it  was  manners  to 
let  my  Lord  have  the  first  cut,  the  pie  being 
his."  And  then,  in  bidding  his  little  book  fare 
well,  he  exclaims : 

"  Good  Fate  protect  thee  from  a  critic's  power; 

For  if  they  once  but  wring  and  screw  their  mouth, 
Cock  up  their  hats,  and  set  the  point  due-South, 
Arms  all  akimbo,  and  with  belly  strut 
As  if  they  had  Parnassus  in  their  gut, 
These  are  the  symptoms  of  the  murthering  fall 
Of  my  poor  infant,  and  his  burial. ' ' 
35 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL,  DAYS 

You  will  note  that  there  is  a  touch  of  sarcasm 
in  this  Marylander's  humor.  And  he  is  not 
lacking  in  another  trait  of  piquant  humor, — 
the  vigorous  use  of  figures  of  speech.  "  The 
Indians,"  he  tells  us,  "  paint  upon  their  faces 
one  stroke  of  red,  another  of  green,  another  of 
white,  and  another  of  black,  so  that  when  they 
have  accomplished  the  equipage  of  their  coun 
tenance  in  this  trim,  they  are  the  only  Hiero- 
glyphicUs  and  Representatives  of  the  Furies." 

To  construct  an  elaborate  and  dignified  ex 
pression  concerning  a  very  simple  matter  is  an 
old  trick  among  humorists;  and  our  colonial 
friend  by  no  means  forgets  it.  Describing  the 
decidedly  unhumorous  procedure  of  scalping, 
he  remarks  that  some  chosen  one  from  among 
the  Indians  "  disrobeth  the  head  of  skin  and 
hair  at  one  pull,  leaving  the  skull  almost  as 
bare  as  those  Monumental  Skeletons  at  Chirur- 
geons'  Hall;  but  for  fear  they  should  get  cold 
by  leaving  so  warm  and  customary  a  cap  off, 
they  immediately  apply  to  the  skull  a  cataplasm 
of  hot  embers  to  keep  their  pericranium 
warm.''  The  volume  has  many  a  round-about 
expression  of  such  a  nature.  "  I  have  vent 
ured,"  says  he,  "  to  come  abroad  in  print,  and 

36 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


if  I  should  be  laughed  at  for  my  good  meaning, 
it  would  so  break  the  credit  of  my  understand 
ing  that  I  should  never  dare  to  show  my  face 
upon  the  Exchange  of  conceited  wits  again. " 

Your  boisterous  humorist  seems  to  have 
flourished  at  this  period  far  better  in  the  South 
ern  colonies  than  in  the  Northern.  The  l '  Sim 
ple  Cobbler"  had  certain  theological  pegs 
which  he  felt  duty-bound  to  drive  into  the  tough 
New  England  sole,  and  therefore  he  would  fain 
be  witty.  But  John  Pory,  when  he  described 
the  strange  customs  of  " James  City,"  and 
George  Alsop,  when  he  sent  forth  his  "  dish 
of  discourse,"  cared  naught  for  theology;  each 
wrote  because  the  fun  was  in  him.  A  little 
later,  however,  we  shall  find  the  case  rather  re 
versed;  for  the  times  soon  called  for  sarcastic 
men,  for  satirists  who  could  turn  the  laugh  on 
the  enemy;  and  then  New  England  wit  flour 
ished  with  surprising  richness. 

The  great  majority  of  our  American  humor 
ists  have  dealt  in  prose  only ;  but  now  and  then 
there  has  come  among  us  a  rhyming  jester,  such 
as  a  Leland,  a  Field,  or  a  Eiley,  to  add  melody 
to  laughter.  There  was  no  dearth  of  would- 
be  poets  in  the  early  colonial  days,  and  though 

37 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

most  of  them  hobbled  rather  than  soared,  we 
find  the  very  lameness  of  their  poetic  feet  of 
more  entertainment  perhaps  than  the  nimble 
efforts  of  some  of  their  successors  in  the  field 
of  American  poetry.  Not  that  these  dignified 
divines  wished  to  be  entertaining;  they  were 
too  much  in  earnest  for  that.  Old  Nicholas 
Noyes  of  Salem,  for  instance,  was  doubtless  sor 
rowing  deeply  when  he  wrote  of  his  deceased 
fellow-preacher : 

"  For  rich  array  cared  not  a  fig, 
And  wore  Elisha's  periwig; 
At  ninety-three  had  comely  face 
Adorned  with  majesty  and  grace; 
Before  he  went  among  the  dead, 
He  children's  children's  children  had." 

EBENEZER  COOK 

But  here  and  there  was  a  poetizer  intention 
ally  funny,  and  one  of  the  earliest  of  these  was 
a  certain  Ebenezer  Cook  of  Maryland.  Cook 
must  have  been  very  much  ashamed  of  his 
verses,  for  he  has  left  scarcely  a  trace  of  a 
record  about  himself.  We  know  simply  that  he 
dwelt  in  Maryland  and  published  in  London  in 
1708  a  little  book  entitled  The  Sot  Weed  Fac- 

38 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


tor;  or  a  Voyage  to  Maryland, — a  satire  in 
which  is  described  the  laws,  government,  courts, 
and  constitutions  of  the  country,  and  also  the 
buildings,  feasts,  frolics,  entertainments,  and 
drunken  humors  of  the  inhabitants  in  that  part 
of  America.  An  eighteenth  century  title  meant 
a  good  day's  work  for  the  author. 

It  is  chiefly  for  the  edification  of  "  Maryland, 
my  Maryland  "  that  Cook's  troubles  are  aired 
in  this  volume.  The  poet  decides  to  take  mer 
chandise  to  Maryland  to  trade  for  tobacco,  and 
he  begins  the  long  and  tedious  voyage. 

"  Freighted  with  fools,  from  Plymouth  sound 
To  Maryland  our  ship  was  bound. " 

Having  landed,  he  opens  his  store  and  the 
"  sot- weed  factors  "  crowd  about  him.  "  Sot- 
weed,''  be  it  known,  is  "  tobacco."  Behold 
these  primitive  Americans: 

"  With  neither  stockings,  hat  nor  shoe, 
These  sot-weed  planters  crowd  the  shore, 
In  hue  as  tawny  as  a  Moor;  , 

Figures  so  strange,  no  god  designed 
To  be  a  part  of  human  kind; 
But  wanton  nature,  void  of  rest, 
Moulded  the  brittle  clay  in  jest." 
39 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

In  the  course  of  Ms  trading  Cook  meets  a 
Quaker.  Now,  evidently  Cook  is  not  an  ad 
mirer  of  the  Quaker  sect;  else  his  own  words 
are  deceiving: 

"  While  riding  near  a  sandy  bay, 
I  met  a  Quaker,  yea  and  nay; 
A  pious,  conscientious  rogue 
As  e'er  wore  bonnet  or  a  brogue; 
Who  neither  swore  nor  kept  his  word, 
But  cheated  in  the  fear  of  God; 
And  when  his  debts  he  would  not  pay, 
By  Light  within  he  ran  away/' 

And  by  this  pious  gentleman  he  is  so  badly 
swindled  that  he  has  scarcely  anything  left  to 
call  his  own.  When  a  man  is  once  fooled,  he 
immediately  makes  himself  a  bigger  fool  by 
going  to  law  about  it.  Ebenezer  Cook  was  no 
exception.  He  found  a  lawyer  who 

"    ...  with  a  stock  of  impudence, 
Supplied  his  want  of  wit  and  sense ; 
With  looks  demure  amazing  people; 
No  wiser  than  a  daw  in  steeple  " 

and  who  for  a  liberal  fee  would 

"    ...  have  poisoned  half  the  parish, 

And  hanged  his  father  on  a  tree." 

40 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


Up  to  Annapolis  they  go.  And  see  Annapo 
lis  in  all  its  primitive  beauty ! 

"  A  city,  situated  on  a  plain, 

.Where  scarce  a  house  will  keep  out  rain, 

But  stranger  here  will  scarcely  meet 
With  market-place,  exchange,  or  street.  - 

Now  here  the  judges  try  the  suit 
And  lawyers  twice  a  year  dispute. 
As  oft  the  bench  most  gravely  meet, 
Some  to  get  drunk  and  some  to  eat 
A  swingling  share  of  country  treat." 

But  the  "  bench  "  and  the  lawyers  did  some 
thing  more  than  consume  hearty  country  fare ; 
the  "  treat  "  simply  refreshed  them  for  the 
oratorical  battle  to  come.  Hear  Cook's  own 
description  of  this  early  scene  of  judicial  dig 
nity: 

"  We  sat  like  others  on  the  ground, 
Carousing  punch  in  open  air, 
Till  crier  did  the  court  declare. 
The  planting  rabble  being  met, 
Their  drunken  worships  being  likewise  set, 
Crier  proclaims  that  noise  should  cease, 
And  straight  the  lawyers  break  the  peace. 
41 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Wrangling  for  plaintiff  and  defendant, 

I  thought  they  ne'er  would  make  an  end  on't, 

With  nonsense,  stuff,  and  false  quotations, 

With  brazen  lies  and  allegations; 

And  in  the  splitting  of  the  cause, 

They  used  such  motions  with  their  paws, 

As  showed  their  zeal  was  strongly  bent 

In  blows  to  end  the  argument. " 

Thus  the  disgusted  Ebenezer  continues 
through  twenty-one  quarto  pages.  The  verse 
is  for  the  most  part  the  merest  doggerel;  the 
humor  is  of  the  slam-bang  variety ;  but  the  fact 
remains  that  here  was  a  joker  who  laughed 
loudly  and  had  no  theological  scruples  about  it. 
It  indicates  the  development  of  a  national  trait, 
— the  irreverent  tendency  to  poke  fun  on  all 
occasions  and  at  all  things  no  matter  how  dig 
nified  or  how  honored.  Thus,  in  spite  of  re 
ligious  dogma,  pioneer  hardships,  struggles 
with  savage  nature  and  still  more  savage  men, 
the  founders  of  the  Commonwealth  developed, 
perhaps  for  the  most  part  unconsciously,  that 
most  characteristic  of  our  traits — the  ability 
to  enjoy  the  ridiculous. 


Ill 


As  we  look  at  the  cold,  stern  portraits  of  the 
Puritan  fathers  or  read  their  strict  statutes 
and  closely  argued  theological  tracts,  we  can 
easily  imagine  how  reluctant  the  times  were 
to  admit  to  "  New  Canaan  '  such  a  light- 
minded  being  as  a  joker.  Yet,  there  was  laugh 
ter  in  spite  of  these  long-faced  latter-day 
saints,  and  to-day  we  sometimes  laugh  because 
of  them.  The  Bay  Psalm  Book,  in  spite  of  its 
good  intentions,  compels  a  smile  now  and  then, 
and  that  classic  the  New  England  Primer 
made  even  the  school  boys  of  colonial  days 
laugh.  It  is  said  that  after  the  last  alphabeti 
cal  rhyme,  the  one  illustrating  Z,  of  course — 

"  Zachias,   he   climbed   a  tree 
His  Lord  to  see  " — 

irreverent  New  England  boys  were  wont  to 
write: 

"  Zachias,  he  had  a  fall 
And  didn't  see  his  Lord  at  all! " 
43 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

But  too  often,  as  the  school  lads  grew  into 
manhood,  they  lost  that  sense  of  humor  which 
throughout  all  history  has  distinguished  a 
broad-minded  man  from  a  bigoted  zealot. 

In  the  Southern  colonies  we  might  reason 
ably  expect  a  different  condition.  Here  were 
the  descendants  of  Cavaliers ;  here  was  a  more 
liberal  religion  or,  in  some  sections,  none  at 
all.  The  soil  was  rich,  and  life  was  not  harsh. 
The  people  loved  sports  and  were  fond  of  show. 
As  early  as  1700,  according  to  the  Scotch- 
Carolinian  John  Lawson,  in  his  History  of 
Carolina,  the  city  of  Charleston,  South  Caro 
lina,  had  "  great  additions  of  beautiful  large 
brick  buildings,"  and  a  well-trained  militia 
whose  "  officers,  both  infantry  and  cavalry, 
generally  appear  in  scarlet  mountings  and  as 
rich  as  in  most  regiments  belonging  to  the 
crown,  which  shows  the  richness  and  grandeur 
of  the  colony."  By  1716  this  city  and  Wil- 
liamsburg,  Virginia,  were  seeing  English  come 
dies  played  by  English  troupes,  and  Williams- 
burg  had  a  house  built  for  the  purpose.  Psalm- 
singing  was  not  then  and  never  has  been  highly 
popular  in  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas ;  but  that 
there  was  some  demand  for  real  music  may  be 

44 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


intimated  from  the  fact  that  among  the  effects 
of  a  Virginia  musician  dying  in  1775  there  were 
such  works  as  Handel's  Acis  and  Galatea  and 
Apollo's  Feast  and  several  Corelli  pieces. 
Among  such  people  we  should  expect  to  find  a 
vein  of  wit  and  humor.  And  doubtless  there 
was;  but  what  chance  would  it  have  had  for 
publication  in  the  isolated  plantation  life  of  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  century?  Only  oc 
casionally  do  we  see  the  glitter  of  sparkling  wit 
or  hear  the  laugh  of  whole-hearted  humor. 

WILLIAM  BYRD 

Among  the  few  who  dared  to  write  down 
their  smiles  in  those  early  days  there  was  a 
Virginian  who  undoubtedly  had  a  real  genius 
for  wit, — the  versatile  Colonel  William  Byrd 
(1674-1744).  Moses  Coit  Tyler  in  all  his 
studies  of  colonial  literature  seems  inclined  to 
consider  him  the  most  brilliant  colonist  before 
the  days  of  Jefferson.  How  many  things  he 
could  do  well !  How  widely,  how  variously  he 
touched  life ! 

Born  on  his  father's  vast  estate,  "  West- 
over/'  Virginia,  he  was  reared  with  every  ad 
vantage  that  wealth,  travel,  study,  and  natural 

45 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

ability  could  offer.  He  was  a  student  in  Eng 
land,  Holland,  and  France,  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  the  Middle  Temple,  was  chosen  a  Fellow 
of  the  Eoyal  Society,  was  appointed  receiver- 
general  of  revenues  for  Virginia,  and  upon  his 
return  to  America  at  once  became  a  leader  in 
all  the  colonial  movements  of  his  day.  For 
thirty-seven  years  a  member  of  the  Virginia 
council,  he  at  length  became  its  president,  was 
three  times  special  envoy  to  England,  founded 
the  cities  of  Eichmond  and  Petersburg,  Vir 
ginia,  gathered  the  largest  and  most  valuable 
library  in  the  American  colonies,  wrote  some  of 
the  most  sprightly  and  entertaining  prose  in 
early  American  literature,  and  was,  as  his 
epitaph  declares,  "  the  constant  enemy  of  all 
exorbitant  power,  and  hearty  friend  to  the 
liberties  of  his  country." 

In  such  a  man,  who  had  lived  so  fully  and 
gladly,  we  should  expect  to  find  the  glint  of 
wit.  And  it  is  here  in  undeniable  brilliancy. 
With  it,  too,  is  a  style  like  the  man;  for,  as 
Professor  Trent  has  said,  in  his  Southern 
Writers,  "  as  an  easy  and  charming  author  he 
is  unsurpassed  by  any  other  early  American 
save  Benjamin  Franklin."  Shrewd  and  seri- 

46 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


ous  on  occasions,  just  as  much  so  as  Franklin 
could  be,  lie  at  the  same  time,  like  Poor  Bich- 
ard,  possessed  for  every  trial  the  saving  grace 
of  humor.  Byrd  is  especially  witty  when  de 
scribing  North  Carolinians.  If  one  is  not  a 
"  tar  heel,"  one  may  enjoy  immensely  these  re 
marks  of  the  genial  Virginian.  In  1729  Byrd 
was  requested  to  survey  the  boundary  line  be 
tween  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  and  after 
sixteen  weeks  spent  in  this  work  he  wrote  all 
about  it  in  his  highly  instructive  and  highly  sar 
castic  History  of  the  Dividing  Line.  Hence 
forth  the  jovial  Colonel  could  not  approach  any 
subject  pertaining  to  North  Carolina  without 
cracking  jokes.  It  reminds  one  of  Artemus 
Ward  and  the  Mormons.  In  1732  he  visited 
his  mineral  land  in  the  Old  North  State,  and 
the  result  was  his  Progress  to  tlie  Mines,  and 
the  following  year  another  visit  brought  forth 
his  Journey  to  the  Land  of  Eden.  The  sarcasm 
of  the  title  is  sufficiently  plain,  I  trust. 

Evidently  Byrd  is  surprised  at  conditions  in 
this  wilderness.  The  only  people,  he  declares, 
who  have  no  religion  are  the  Hottentots  of  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  of  North  Carolina! 
"  They  are  not  troubled  with  any  religious 

47 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

fumes,  and  have  the  least  superstition  of  any 
people  living.  They  do  not  know  Sunday  from 
any  other  day,  any  more  than  Eobinson  Cru 
soe  did ;  which  would  give  them  a  great  advan 
tage,  were  they  given  to  be  industrious.  But 
they  keep  so  many  Sabbaths  every  week,  that 
their  disregard  of  the  seventh  day  has  no  man 
ner  of  cruelty  in  it,  either  to  servant  or  cat 
tle."  North  Carolina  has  "  a  climate  where 
no  clergyman  can  breathe,  any  more  than 
spiders  in  Ireland."  The  town  of  Edenton, 
which  Byrd  visited,  struck  him  as  being  unique. 
"  I  believe  this  is  the  only  metropolis  in  the 
Christian  or  Mahometan  world,  where  there  is 
neither  church,  chapel,  mosque,  synagogue,  or 
any  other  place  of  public  worship  whatsoever. 
.  .  .  The  people  seem  easy  without  a  minister, 
as  long  as  they  are  exempted  from  paying 
him." 

Byrd  intimates  that  these  Carolinians  had 
one  supreme  virtue  in  which  modern  Americans 
are  sadly  deficient;  they  were  not  extravagant. 
"  A  citizen  here  is  counted  extravagant  if  he 
has  ambition  enough  to  aspire  to  a  brick-chim 
ney!  "  Here  good  things  and  hard-earned 
cash  are  never  wasted;  for  the  people  "  are 

48 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


never  guilty  of  the  sin  of  suffering  "  liquor 
"  to  sour  upon  their  hands, "  and  "  they  pay 
no  tribute,  either  to  God  or  to  Caesar."  Then, 
too,  their  towns  are  not  infested  with  swarms 
of  daintily  dressed  dudes;  indeed  the  natives 
dressed  with  extreme  plainness.  Let  Byrd  tell 
us  of  one  country  gentleman  that  he  met  in  the 
South  Shore  district  of  the  colony:  "  Like  the 
ravens,  he  neither  ploughed  nor1  sowed,  but 
subsisted  chiefly  upon  oysters  which  his  hand 
maid  made  a  shift  to  gather  from  the  adjacent 
rocks.  Sometimes,  too,  for  change  of  diet,  he 
sent  her  to  drive  up  the  neighbors'  cows,  to 
moisten  their  mouths  with  a  little  milk.  But 
as  for  raiment,  he  depended  mostly  upon  the 
length  of  beard,  and  she  upon  the  length  of 
hair,  part  of  which  she  brought  decently  for 
ward,  and  the  rest  dangled  behind  quite  down 
to  her  rump,  like  one  of  Herodotus 's  East 
Indian  Pigmies." 

It  was  well  for  William  Byrd  that  these  vari 
ous  complimentary  accounts  were  not  published 
during  his  life-time;  else  the  Old  North  State 
would  doubtless  have  protested  vigorously 
against  that  portion  of  his  epitaph  that  declares 
him  the  "  hearty  friend  to  the  liberties  of  his 

4  49 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

country."  These  papers,  written  during  the 
period  between  1728  and  1736,  were  not  printed 
until  1841,  when  they  appeared  under  the  title, 
The  Westover  Manuscripts.  This  and  the 
later  edition,  known  as  The  Byrd  Manuscripts 
(1866),  came  as  a  surprise  to  students  of 
American  literature ;  for  here  was  a  collection 
of  essays,  descriptions,  and  narratives,  brim 
full  of  individuality,  frothy  with  wit,  and  yet 
lacking  none  of  the  red  wine  of  that  experience 
which  only  active  life  can  bring.  Though  un 
doubtedly  written  mainly  for  self -enjoyment, 
the  sketches  have  a  style  scarcely  equalled  by 
any  other  colonial  writers  save  Franklin  and 
Jefferson,  and  though  lacking  the  quantity  of 
the  works  of  either  of  these  statesmen,  they 
have  a  sure  lightness  of  touch  never  attained 
by  the  one  and  a  straightforwardness  of  ex 
pression  never  indulged  in  by  the  other.  If  he 
had  chosen  to  remain  in  England,  he  would  have 
become  undoubtedly  one  of  the  greater  wits  of 
the  eighteenth  century ;  as  he  did  not  choose  to 
do  so,  his  fame  in  his  own  land  was  long  under 
a  cloud.  But  there  are  signs  that  his  "  great 
elegancy  of  taste  and  life  "  (to  quote  from  his 
tombstone)  and  his  merit  as  a  " well-bred  gen- 

50 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


tleman  and  polite  companion  "  will  in  time  re 
ceive  their  deserved  recognition.  Within  the 
last  decade  he  has  reached  that  stage  where  the 
school  text-books  on  American  literature  men 
tion  him  as  "  among  others  present." 

From  the  one  standpoint  of  mere  individual 
ity  and  uniqueness  of  expression  this  is  nothing 
more  than  justice.  He  has  that  much  sought- 
for  genius  for  saying  things  in  a  way  which  is 
laughably  novel.  Of  "  ginseng  "  he  declares: 
"  It  cheers  the  heart  even  of  a  man  that  has  a 
bad  wife.  .  .  .  'Tis  friendly  to  the  lungs,  much 
more  than  scolding  itself.  ...  It  will  make  a 
man  live  a  great  while,  and  very  well  while  he 
does  live."  He  notices  that  the  path  leading 
to  a  certain  preacher's  door  was  "  as  narrow 
as  that  which  leads  to  heaven,  but  much  more 
dirty."  He  remarks  on  "  the  Carolina 
felicity  of  having  nothing  to  do."  His  mills 
in  that  colony,  he  declares,  he  found  "  as  still 
for  the  want  of  water,  as  a  dead  woman's 
tongue  for  the  want  of  breath."  The  noisiest, 
most  struggling  stream  he  found  in  the  section 
he  named  "  Matrimony  Creek." 

Here,  then,  was  an  early  American  of  genu 
ine  wit.  His  mind  worked  quickly;  he  saw 

51 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

things  in  novel  and  surprising  relations;  lie 
expressed  himself  with  a  "  snap  "  and  accuracy 
worthy  of  imitation  even  in  our  own  electrical, 
abbreviated  day.  One  of  the  earliest  of  our 
long  list  of  American  humorists,  he  bears  com 
parison  with  our  latest;  for  the  sparkle  of  his 
wit  is  not  a  reflection  caught  from  his  library, 
but  a  light  found  by  his  sharp  eyes  in  daily 
intercourse  with  his  little  world  of  men. 


IV 


MATHER  BYLES 

There  were  once  in  eighteenth  century  Bos 
ton-town  two  witty  rhymesters  who  caused 
more  merriment  in  that  staid  city  than  all  the 
other  townsmen  together.  They  were  named 
Mather  Byles  and  Joseph  Green.  Both  were 
brilliant  speakers,  "profound"  scholars,  and 
stem-faced  Christians — on  Sunday.  During 
the  remainder  of  the  week  they  were  such 
chronic  jokers  that  of  one  it  was  written, 

"  There's  punning  Byles  provokes  our  smiles, 

A  man  of  stately  parts, 
He  visits  folks  to  crack  his  jokes, 
Which  never  mend  their  hearts. 

"  With  strutting  gate  and  wig  so  great, 

He  walks  along  the  streets; 
And  throws  out  wit,  or  what's  like  it, 
To  every  one  he  meets." 

while  for  the  other  a  friend  wrote  an  epitaph 
no  less  suggestive: 

53 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Siste  Viator,  here  lies  one 
Whose  life  was  whim,  whose  soul  was  pun, 
And  if  you  go  too  near  his  hearse 
He'll  joke  you,  both  in  prose  and  verse. " 

Their  lives  did  not  flow  in  unruffled  calm 
either,  as  one  might  suppose  in  the  case  of  such 
merry  punsters.  Heavy  trials  came  to  them; 
both  died  practically  exiled  by  their  fellow 
countrymen;  but  both  laughed  dull  care  away, 
and  saw  in  each  tribulation  a  new  cause  for  a 
joke.  ' 

Byles  was  born  at  Boston  in  1706  and  could 
boast  of  such  ancestors  as  Eichard  Mather  and 
John  Cotton.  With  such  forefathers  it  is  a 
miracle  that  he  even  knew  the  meaning  of  a 
jest!  Educated  at  Harvard,  he  became  the  pas 
tor  of  Hollis  Street  Church  in  his  native  city  in 
1733,  and  there  entered  into  a  career  which 
became  a  part  of  the  very  woof  and  fibre  of 
Boston.  For  forty-three  years  he  preached 
sermons  "calculated"  (pardon  the  American 
ism)  to  thrill  the  most  stolid  souls,  and  for 
forty-three  years  he  cracked  jokes  calculated 
to  upset  the  gravity  of  the  most  long-faced 
Puritan;  and  then  at  length  came  a  blow  that 
would  have  crushed  a  less  stalwart  spirit.  The 

54 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


Revolution  was  at  hand;  Byles  declared  in 
favor  of  Great  Britain;  and  he  poured  salt  on 
Yankee  wounds  by  praying  in  public  for  the 
health  and  prosperity  of  His  Majesty  King 
George !  But  a  day  of  retribution  was  coming. 
In  1776,  immediately  after  the  evacuation  of 
Boston,  a  committee  of  Churchmen  was  ap 
pointed  to  call  the  free-speaking  parson  to  task 
for  this  unbecoming  conduct,  and  forthwith  the 
charges  against  him  were  committed  to  writing, 
and  the  old  preacher  summoned  to  the  church 
to  answer  the  accusations. 

Now  there  was  no  small  dread  of  their  sharp- 
eyed  and  sharper-tongued  pastor — for  his  was 
a  lofty  figure  with  a  fearless  look  of  authority 
about  it — and  before  he  arrived  at  the  meeting 
the  abashed  committee  had  taken  seats  in  a 
high  gallery  as  distant  as  possible  from  the 
altar.  "  At  length  Dr.  Byles  entered  dressed 
in  his  ample,  flowing  robes  and  bands,  under 
a  full  bush-wig  that  had  been  recently  pow 
dered,  surmounted  by  a  large  three-cornered 
hat."  He  walked  solemnly  to  the  pulpit,  hung 
his  hat  upon  a  peg,  seated  himself,  and  waited 
for  developments.  The  trembling  committee 
could  not  speak.  After  a  silence  of  some  min- 

55 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

utes  he  "turned  with  a  portentous  air  toward 
the  gallery,"  and  said,  "If  ye  have  aught  to 
communicate,  say  on."  Here  one  of  the  com 
mittee,  "  a  very  little  man  with  a  very  little 
voice,"  stood  up  and  began  to  read: 

"  The  Church  of  Christ  in  Hollis  Street " 

"  Louder!  "  roared  the  preacher. 

"  The  Church  of  Christ  in  Hollis  Street " 

"  Louder!  "  again  roared  the  grim  clergy 
man. 

The  spokesman  made  a  mighty  effort  and  was 
allowed  to  read  four  or  five  lines,  when  the 
infuriated  pastor  arose  and  thundered, 

"  'Tis  false!  'Tis  false!  'Tis  false!  And 
the  Church  of  Christ  in  Hollis  Street  knows 
that  'tis  false." 

Taking  down  his  hat,  he  marched  from  the 
church  and  never  preached  in  it  again. 

In  1777  he  was  tried  in  a  Boston  court  for 
praying  for  King  George  and  for  helping  Brit 
ish  soldiers,  and  was  sentenced  to  imprison 
ment  in  a  guard-ship  and  to  be  exiled  to  Eng 
land.  Even  under  these  circumstances  his 
jovial  nature  did  not  forsake  him;  for,  upon 
being  invited  to  warm  himself  when  first  en 
tering  the  court-room,  he  exclaimed,  "  Gentle 
men,  when  I  came  among  you,  I  expected  per- 

56 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


secution,  but  I  could  not  think  you  would  have 
offered  me  the  fire  so  suddenly!  "  Again, 
when  his  sentence  was  afterwards  changed  to 
imprisonment  within  his  own  premises,  having 
sent  his  guard  on  an  errand,  he  amused  a  great 
crowd  of  Bostonians  by  gravely  marching,  gun 
in  hand,  back  and  forward  before  his  own  door, 
keeping  guard  over  himself!  Later  the  watch 
man  was  removed,  but  within  a  short  time  was 
replaced,  and  then  again  removed;  and  the 
doctor  smilingly  remarked  that  he  had  been 
"  guarded,  reguarded,  and  disreguarded. ' ' 

On  no  occasion  was  he  ever  known  to  be  with 
out  a  witty  observation.  In  1780  a  famous 
"  dark  day  "  occurred,  and  a  lady,  having  sent 
her  child  to  Byles  to  ask  the  cause,  received 
the  reply  that  he  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
she  was.  One  day  a  carriage  containing  two 
members  of  the  town-council  stuck  in  a  mud- 
hole  in  front  of  his  house.  The  parson  gazed 
for  some  moments  upon  the  spectacle,  and  then 
calmly  remarked,  "  Gentlemen,  I  have  often 
complained  to  you  of  this  nuisance,  without  any 
attention  being  paid  to  it,  and  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you  stirring  in  this  matter  now!  '  On 
one  occasion  he  admitted  himself  beaten — and 
that  by  a  woman.  For  some  time  he  had 

67 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

courted  her,  but  finally  she  married  a  suitor 
named  Quincy. 

"  Bo,  madam, "  said  Byles,  "  it  appears  you 
prefer  a  Quincy  to  Byles/' 

11  Yes,"  replied  the  lady  sharply,  "  for  if 
there  had  been  anything  worse  than  biles,  God 
would  have  afflicted  Job  with  them!  " 

JOSEPH  GREEN 

Now  Mather  Byles'  only  equal  in  wit  in  the 
whole  city  of  Boston  was  his  neighbor,  Joseph 
Green.  He  was  indeed  a  worthy  rival.  Born 
at  Boston  in  1706,  and  educated  at  Harvard,  he 
had  early  become  wealthy  as  a  distiller,  and 
had  thus  gained  leisure  to  produce  several 
amusing  and  highly  popular  poems.  One  of 
these,  long  read  by  New  England  fire-sides,  was 
his  Entertainment  for  a  Winter's  Evening,  a 
sarcastic  account  of  a  boisterous  Masonic  meet 
ing  held  in  a  church. 

"  0  Muse  renown 'd  for  story-telling, 
Fair  Clio,  leave  thy  airy  dwelling. 

Come,  goddess,  and  our  ears  regale 
With  a  diverting  Christmas  tale. 
O  come,  and  in  thy  verse  declare 
58 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


Who  were  the  men  and  what  they  were, 

And  what  their  names,  and  what  their  fame, 

And  what  the  cause  for  which  they  came 

To  house  of  God  from  house  of  ale, 

And  how  the  parson  told  his  tale: 

How  they  return'd,  in  manner  odd, 

To  house  of  ale  from  house  of  God. 

So  good  Saint  Francis,  man  of  grace, 

Himself  preached  to  the  braying  race; 

And  farther,  as  the  story  passes, 

He  addressed  them  thus — '  My  brother  asses  V 

Another  of  his  successful  poems  was  A 
Mournful  Lamentation  over  the  Death  of  Mr. 
Old  Tenor,  the  corpse  being  not  a  musician,  but 
a  species  of  currency  which  the  government 
had  withdrawn  from  circulation.  These  verses 
made  the  rough  beams  of  many  an  ancient  farm 
house  ring  with  laughter. 

Like  Byles,  lie  could  furnish  laughter  on  a 
moment's  notice  and  for  all  occasions.  See 
ing  workmen  tearing  down  a  Boston  school- 
house  to  make  room  for  an  addition  to  a  church, 
he  instantly  remarked, 

"  *  A  fig  for  your  learning!     I  tell  you  the  town, 
To  make  the  church  larger,  must  pull  the  school 
down. ' 

59 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

*  Unluckily  spoken/  replied  Master  Birch: 
'  Then  learning,  I  fear,  stops  the  growth  of  the 
church'/' 


The  uninspired  citizens  of  Boston  wondered 
at  the  intellect  that  could  grind  out  poetry  in 
such  short  order,  and  make  it  so  amusing  be 
sides.  Green  and  his  rival  wit  were  the  pride 
of  the  town — beings  capable  of  performing 
astonishing  literary  feats. 

But  the  greatest  feat  of  Green's  was  his 
parody  on  Byles '  Hymn  Written  during  a  Voy 
age.  The  wit  contest  that  arose  from  it  gave 
old  Boston  entertainment  for  weeks.  It  &11 
happened  after  this  wise:  Dr.  Byles  was  con 
sidered  such  good  company  that  Governor 
Belcher  of  Massachusetts,  when  starting  on  a 
sea-voyage,  enticed  him  aboard  and  sailed  away 
while  the  parson  was  taking  a  glass  in  the  cabin. 
When  Byles  came  forth  he  was  surprised  to  find 
"  water,  water  everywhere  ";  but  he  took  the 
joke  as  a  joker  should,  and  prepared  to  act  as 
chaplain  of  the  crew.  When  Sunday  came  he 
found  not  a  single  hymn-book  on  board !  Many 
a  parson  would  have  called  it  "  unkind  provi 
dence  ";  but  Byles,  being  a  Boston  parson,  rose 

60 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


to  the  occasion  and  wrote  a  hymn  that  was  not 
at  all  bad. 

"  Great  God,  thy  works  our  wonder  raise; 

To  thee,  our  swelling  notes  belong; 
While  skies  and  winds  and  rocks  and  seas, 
Around  shall  echo  to  our  song. 

"  Thy  power  produced  this  mighty  frame, 

Aloud  to  thee  the  tempests  roar, 
Or  softer  breezes  tune  thy  name 
Gently  along  the  shelly  shore. 

"  Round  thee  the  scaly  nation  roves, 

Thy  opening  hands  their  joys  bestow, 
Through  all  the  blushing  coral  groves, 
Those  silent  gay  retreats  below." 

This  was  Green's  opportunity.  Immediately 
upon  publication  of  Byles'  sacred  song,  he  put 
forth  a  parody: 

"  In  David's  Psalms  an  oversight 

Byles  found  one  morning  at  his  tea, 
Alas!  that  he  should  never  write 
A  proper  psalm  to  sing  at  sea. 

"  He  sat  awhile  and  stroked  his  muse, 

Then  taking  up  his  tuneful  pen 
Wrote  a  few  stanzas  for  the  use 
Of  his  seafaring  brethren. 
61 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  Psalm 
"  .With  vast  amazement  we  survey 

The  wonders  of  the  deep, 
.Where  mackerel  swim,  and  porpoise  play, 
And  crabs  and  lobsters  creep. 

"  Fish  of  all  kinds  inhabit  here, 
And  throng  the  dark  abode, 
Here   haddock,  hake,   and  flounders  are, 
And  eels,  and  perch,  and  cod. 

11  From  waging  winds  and  tempests  free 

So  smoothly  as  we  pass, 
The  shining  surface  seems  to  be 
A  piece  of  Bristol  glass. 

11  But  when  the  winds  and  tempests  rise, 

And  foaming  billows  swell, 
The  vessel  mounts  above  the  skies, 
And  lower  sinks  than  hell. 

"  Our  heads  the  tottering  motion  feel 

And  quickly  we  become 
Giddy  as  new-dropp'd  calves  and  reel 
Like  Indians  drunk  with  rum." 


Of  course  Byles  could  not  suffer  this  in 
silence.  He  replied  with  a  parody  on  the 
parody,  and  Boston  had  another  laugh. 

62 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


"  In  Byles'  works  an  oversight 

Green  spy'd,  as  once  he  smok'd  his  chunk, 
Alas !  that  Byles  should  never  write 
A  song  to  sing  when  folks  are  drunk. 

"  Thus  in  the  chimney  on  his  block, 
Ambition  fir'd  the  'stiller 's  pate; 
He  summon 'd  all  his  little  stock, 
The  poet's  volume  to  complete. 

Song 
"  With  vast  amazement  we  survey 

The  can  so  broad,  so  deep, 
Where  punch  succeeds  the  strong  sangree, 
Both  to  delightful  flip. 

"  From  cruel  thoughts  and  conscience  free, 

From  dram  to  dram  we  pass: 
Our  cheeks,  like  apples,  ruddy  be: 
Our  eyeballs  look  like  glass. 

•  ••*••• 

"  Thus  lost  in  deep  tranquillity, 

We  sit,  supine  and  sot, 
Till  we  two  moons  distinctly  see — 
Come,  give  us  t'other  pot." 

Thus  these  two  wits  amused  old-time  Bos 
ton.  It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that 
they  were  continually  acting  the  part  of  clowns. 

63 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  sermons  of  the  one  and  the  serious  work 
of  the  other,  have  the  gravity,  the  display  of 
learning,  and  the  untiring  length  of  the  best 
of  their  species  in  the  eighteenth  century,  while 
several  of  their  poems  have  a  sincerity  of  emo 
tion  which  surprises  us  after  a  reading  of  their 
satirical  efforts.  But  if  Byles  and  Green  are 
remembered  at  all  to-day  it  is  because  they 
joked  with  such  tireless  enthusiasm.  For  they 
proved,  unconsciously  perhaps,  that  the  winter 
of  Puritanical  austerity  was  passing  away  and 
that  the  summer  of  laughter,  with  old  Ben 
Franklin  leading  the  fearless  choir  of  jokers, 
was  almost  at  hand. 


WILLIAM  DOUGLASS 

One  of  the  keenest  intellects  in  America  in 
the  early  eighteenth  century  was  that  of  Dr. 
William  Douglass  (1691-1752)  of  Boston.  His 
was  a  merciless  wit,  a  caustic  sarcasm  that 
spared  no  man  nor  movement  he  thought 
tainted  with  hypocrisy;  and  the  quarrels  this 
led  him  into  with  every  undesirable  citizen, 
from  quacks  to  governors,  were  most  numerous, 
and  most  delightful — to  him.  Concerning  the 
physicians  of  America  he  presented  the  fol 
lowing  admiring  sentiments  in  his  Summary  of 
the  British  Settlements:  "  In  our  plantation 
a  practitioner,  bold,  rash,  impudent,  a  liar, 
basely  born,  and  educated,  has  much  the  ad 
vantage  of  an  honest,  cautious,  modest  gentle 
man.  .  .  .  Our  American  practitioners  are  so 
rash  and  officious  the  saying  in  ...  Ecclesias- 
ticus  .  .  .  may  with  much  propriety  be  applied 
to  them:  '  He  that  sinneth  before  his  Maker, 
let  him  fall  into  the  hand  of  the  physician.' 
Frequently  there  is  more  danger  from  the 

5  65 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

physician  than  from  the  distemper.  .  .  .  When 
I  first  arrived  in  New  England,  I  asked  ...  a 
noted  facetious  practitioner  what  was  their 
general  method  of  practice.  He  told  me  their 
practice  was  very  uniform :  bleeding,  vomiting, 
blistering,  purging,  anodyne,  and  so  forth;  if 
the  illness  continued  there  was  *  repetendi ' 
and  finally  '  murderandi '."  Douglass  de 
clared  that  after  an  earthquake  in  Jamaica, 
one  quack  advertised  "  pills  to  prevent  persons 
or  their  effects  suffering  by  earthquakes." 

Individuals  were  no  more  spared  than  gen 
eral  classes  of  fakes.  George  Whitefield,  he 
maintained,  was  "  an  insignificant  person,  of 
no  general  learning,  void  of  common  prudence. 
.  .  .  The  strength  of  his  argument  lay  in  his 
lungs.  .  .  .  He  and  his  disciples  seemed  to  be 
great  promoters  of  impulses,  ecstasies,  and 
wantonness  between  the  sexes.  Hypocritical 
professions,  vociferations,  and  itineracies  are 
devotional  quackery."  In  short,  he  thought 
it  a  great  waste  of  time  for  the  mechanics  and 
farmers  to  be  gathering  to  hear  such  talk ;  and 
he  took  pleasure  in  pointing  out  that  every  time 
the  preacher  held  a  meeting,  labor  was  lost 
amounting  to  one  thousand  pounds. 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


NATHANIEL  AMES 

Douglass  might  well  have  quoted  the  words 
of  his  contemporary,  the  shrewd  almanac 
maker,  Dr.  Nathaniel  Ames :  ' '  He  that  lives  by 
fraud  is  in  danger  of  dying  a  knave. "  There 
was  something  very  much  akin  in  the  self-con 
fidence,  the  shrewdness,  and  the  ready  wit  of 
these  two  Massachusetts  physicians.  Nathaniel 
Ames  (1708-1764),  as  both  doctor  and  inn 
keeper,  became  learned,  not  in  books  but  in 
human  nature,  and  his  Astronomical  Diary  and 
Almanac,  so  immensely  popular  throughout  all 
New  England,  contained  the  shrewd  and  tact 
ful  wisdom  of  a  man  of  the  world.  Current 
events  received  full  justice  in  the  spare  spaces 
between  his  astronomical  calculations;  homely 
advice  to  fops,  broilers,  flirts,  and  scamps  was 
presented  liberally;  while  absurd  prophecies 
sprinkled  here  and  there,  made  the  rafters  of 
many  an  ancient  farmhouse  echo  laughter. 
Thus: 

May  22.  "  Some  materials  about  this  time  are 
hatched  for  the  clergy  to  debate  on." 

November  9.  "  These  aspects  show  violent  winds 
and  in  winter  storms  of  driving  snow;  mischiefs  by 

67 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

the  Indians,  if  no  peace;  and  among  us,  feuds,  quar 
rels,  bloody-noses,  broken  pates — if  not  necks." 

December  15. 

"  This  cold,  uncomfortable  weather 

Makes  Jack  and  Gill  lie  close  together." 

February  24-27.  "  If  you  fall  into  misfortunes, 
creep  through  those  bushes  which  have  the  least 
briers. ' ' 

July  16-27.  "  Every  man  carries  a  fool  in  his 
sleeve ;  with  some  he  appears  bold,  with  some  he  only 
pops  out  now  and  then,  but  the  wise  keep  him  hid." 

September  12-16.  "  To  some  men  their  country  is 
their  shame;  and  some  are  the  shame  of  their  coun 
try." 

This  was  the  sort  of  reading  indeed  most 
needed  in  the  days  of  Ames  and  Franklin. 
Among  the  wealthier  classes  of  Eastern  cities 
there  was  a  tendency  to  imitate  French  cus 
toms  and  to  some  extent,  French  vices,  a  shame- 
facedness  toward  the  plain  and  honest  ways 
of  the  forefathers,  and  Nathaniel  Ames  and 
"  Poor  Bichard,"  with  their  almanacs,  read  in 
many  homes  where  no  other  print  save  that  of 
the  Bible  was  ever  seen,  had  a  steadying  effect 
upon  the  common  folk.  "  I  don't  pretend  to 
direct  the  learned ;  the  rich  and  voluptuous  will 
scorn  my  direction,  and  sneer  or  rail  at  any 

68 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


that  would  reclaim  them;  but  since  this  sheet 
enters  the  solitary  dwellings  of  the  poor  and 
illiterate,  where  the  studied  ingenuity  of  the 
learned  writer  never  comes,  if  these  brief  hints 
do  good,  it  will  rejoice  the  heart  of  your  hum 
ble  servant,  Nathaniel  Ames."  His  was  a 
lowly  philosophy,  intended  for  the  lowly  peo 
ple,  where,  as  he  says,  "  if  there  was  less  de 
bating  and  more  acting,  'twould  be  better 
times;  "  for 

"  The  lawyers'  tongues — they  never  freeze, 
If  warmed  with  honest  clients  *  fees." 

Numerous  writers  have  said  that  Ben 
Franklin  was  the  first  man  ever  to  have  pub 
lished  an  almanac  filled  with  information,  wit, 
and  philosophy;  but  eight  years  before  the 
"  Poor  Richard  "  sayings  began  to  delight  both 
America  and  Europe,  Nathaniel  Ames  had  pre 
pared  the  readers  for  just  such  a  class  of  lit 
erature  and  had  made  possible  the  enormous 
success  which  was  to  come  in  this  manner  to 
him  whom  we  shall  next  discuss, — Benjamin 
Franklin. 


VI 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 

If  Abe  Lincoln  and  Zeb  Vance  and  Davy 
Crockett  had  done  and  said  all  the  funny  things 
they  have  been  credited  with,  they  would  have 
been  busy  at  nothing  else  for  some  centuries. 
It  is  the  good  fortune,  or  perhaps,  the  fate,  of 
every  conspicuous  character  to  gather  about  his 
memory  a  folk  lore,  doubtless  full  of  admira 
tion,  but  not  always  flattering  in  its  good  taste 
and  morality.  One  of  the  earliest  of  these 
American  heroes  was  that  genial  humorist, 
philosopher,  scientist,  statesman,  editor,  and 
common-sense  man,  Benjamin  Franklin.  The 
jokes  and  shrewd  sayings  attributed  to  this 
prince  of  good  fellows  would  fill  a  bulky  volume. 
Gradually  there  has  gathered  about  him  a  host 
of  tales  until  in  truth  he  has  become  at  length 
the  central  figure  in  a  lengthy  myth  or  comic 
epic. 

The  chief  incidents  in  Ben  Franklin 's  life  are 

70 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


so  well  known  to  every  intelligent  American 
that  it  seems  unnecessary  at  this  time  to  enter 
into  any  lengthy  recital  of  them.  A  genuine 
man  and  a  lover  of  genuine  men,  he  seems  to 
interest  every  class  of  people.  Perhaps  no 
other  early  American,  save  Jefferson,  touched 
life  at  so  many  points.  Let  us,  for  a  moment, 
refresh  our  memory  of  his  manifold  experi 
ences.  Born  at  Boston,  January  17,  1706,  the 
son  of  a  candle-maker  and  soap-boiler,  he  very 
early  learned  the  full  meaning  of  toil;  for  at 
the  age  of  ten  he  was  hard  at  work  in  his 
father's  shop.  He  was  a  strong  boy  with  a 
solid,  prudent  mind;  but  he  chafed  under  the 
confinement  and  drudgery  of  his  father's  occu 
pation,  and,  like  many  a  youngster  of  spirit, 
longed  to  escape  a  commonplace  life  by  running 
off  to  sea. 

His  saving  grace,  however,  was  his  fondness 
for  reading,  and  on  books  he  spent  all  that  he 
obtained  as  a  child-laborer.  Very  serious  vol 
umes  he  read,  too ;  for  he  tells  us  that  the  first 
book  he  bought,  Pilgrim's  Progress,  was  sold  to 
buy  Burton's  Historical  Collection,  and  that 
among  the  other  books  of  his  youthful  library 
were  Plutarch's  Lives  and  Mather's  Essay  to 

71 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

do  Good.  He  early  had  an  itching  to  write 
poetry;  but  this  was  cured  by  his  father's  blunt 
statement  that  poets  were  generally  beggars, 
and  doubtless,  judging  by  the  specimens  which 
matter-of-fact  Ben  has  left  behind,  the  advice 
was  excellent;  for  he  would  indeed  have  been 
a  beggar  had  he  received  his  poetic  dues.  His 
constant  reading,  however,  prompted  him  to 
improve  his  prose  style,  and  by  untiring  prac 
tice  with  the  Spectator  as  a  model,  he  developed 
a  simplicity  and  a  directness  of  expression  not 
excelled  by  many  writers  in  the  English  lan 
guage. 

We  may  not  linger  over  the  details  of  his 
boyhood  struggles.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he 
was  apprenticed  to  his  brother,  James,  pub 
lisher  of  The  New  England  Courant  of  Boston, 
caught  what  Holmes  has  called  "  lead-poison 
ing,"  or  the  desire  to  appear  in  print,  and 
contributed  anonymous  articles  to  the  Courant. 
At  seventeen  he  had  run  away  to  Philadelphia, 
where  his  ramble  with  a  loaf  of  bread  at  his 
mouth  and  one  under  each  arm  amused  his 
future  wife,  and  where  his  taking  a  good  nap 
in  the  Quaker  meeting-house  indicated  his 
future  complaisancy  toward  all  religion.  The 

72 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


next  important  step  occurred  when,  after  be 
ing  sent  to  England  by  a  deceitful  politician  to 
purchase  a  printing  outfit,  he  found  himself 
stranded  in  London  and  obliged  to  seek  work 
in  a  metropolitan  printing-house.  A  great 
man  forces  luck  from  his  adversities;  and  we 
find  Franklin  shrewdly  gaining  an  accurate 
knowledge  of  every  detail  of  the  art  of  print 
ing.  When,  after  eighteen  months'  absence,  he 
returned  to  Ajnerica,  no  other  man  in  the  coun 
try  could  approach  him  in  typographical  skill 
and  fertility  of  resources. 

By  1729  he  had  "  set  up  "  shop  for  himself, 
and  then  what  a  wonderful  career  of  activity 
began!  He  established  The  Pennsylvania 
Gazette,  founded  the  famous  Junto  Club, 
created  the  first  subscription-library  in  Amer 
ica,  began  the  publication  of  Poor  Richard's 
Almanac  in  1732,  was  clerk  of  the  General  As 
sembly  in  1736,  postmaster  of  Philadelphia  in 
1737,  and  postmaster-general  for  the  American 
colonies  in  1753,  organized  the  first  American 
police  force  supported  by  taxation,  the  first 
fire-company  in  Philadelphia,  and  the  State 
militia  of  Pennsylvania,  founded  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  discovered  the  identity  of 

73 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OP  COLONIAL  DAYS 

lightning  and  electricity  in  1752,  was  awarded 
the  Copley  medal  in  1753,  was  chosen  a  Fellow 
of  the  Eoyal  Society,  was  a  delegate  to  the 
Albany  Convention  of  1754,  and  there  proposed 
a  plan  for  a  union  of  the  colonies,  was  repre 
sentative  of  Pennsylvania  in  England  from 
1757  to  1762,  was  colonial  representative  to 
oppose  the  Stamp  Act  of  1764,  was  European 
representative  of  various  colonies  until  1775, 
was  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence,  was  American  Ambassador  in 
France  from  1776  until  1785,  was  the  moving 
power  in  procuring  the  treaty  with  England 
in  1783,  was  president  of  Pennsylvania  from 
1785  to  1788,  was  a  delegate  to  the  Federal 
Convention  of  1787,  and  served  as  a  uniting 
spirit  in  that  final  endeavor  to  form  a  nation. 
Honors  were  lavished  upon  him.  Both  Yale 
and  Harvard  gave  him  the  M.A.  degree;  St. 
Andrews  and  Oxford  conferred  upon  him  the 
Doctor  of  Laws ;  Edinburgh  presented  him  the 
freedom  of  the  city;  London  society  lionized 
him;  and  France  received  him  with  an  ovation 
greater  than  that  accorded  Voltaire.  Number 
less  medallions  in  his  honor  were  struck  off,  and 
a  Frenchman  made  the  brilliant  summary: 

74 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


"  He  has  seized  the  lightning  from  heaven  and 
the  scepter  from  tyrants. " 

It  was  a  wonderful  life,  and  yet  how  simple ! 
The  man  was  never  puffed  up,  never  vain 
glorious.  Deliberately  he  had  trained  himself 
to  be  broad-minded;  he  tossed  dogmatism  to 
the  winds.  In  his  early  manhood  he  began  to 
refrain  from  over-positive  statements,  and  in 
his  old  age  he  could  say:  "  Perhaps  for  the  last 
fifty  years  no  one  has  ever  heard  a  dogmatical 
expression  escape  me."  It  may  be  that  he  was 
a  trifle  too  shrewd.  He  seems  indeed  a  little 
too  calculating  when  he  declares,  "  I  took  care 
not  only  to  be  in  reality  industrious  and  frugal, 
but  to  avoid  the  appearances  to  the  contrary. 
I  dressed  plain,  and  was  seen  at  no  places  of 
idle  diversions.  I  never  went  out  afishing  or 
shooting;  a  book,  indeed,  sometimes  debauched 
me  from  my  work,  but  that  was  seldom,  was 
private,  and  gave  no  scandal."  But,  as 
Sainte-Beuve  points  out,  "  there  is  a  flower  of 
religion,  a  flower  of  honor,  a  flower  of  chivalry 
that  you  must  not  require  of  Franklin." 

From  such  a  man  we  should  expect  a  sort  of 
shrewd,  earthy  humor,  and,  verily,  we  are  not 
disappointed.  In  his  youthful  days  he  wrote  a 

75 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

poem  entitled  Paper,  in  which  he  expresses  his 
opinion  on  poetic  matters : 

"  What  are  our  poets,  take  them  as  they  fall, 

Good,  bad,  rich,  poor,  much  read,  not  read  at  all? 
Then  all  their  work  in  the  same  class  you  '11  find : 
They  are  the  mere  waste  paper  of  mankind." 

But  to  counterbalance  this  weakness  on  the 
spiritual  side,  we  find  in  another  stanza  that 
blunt  common-sense  for  which  he  was  so  noted : 

"  The  retail  politician's  anxious  thought 

Deems    this    side    always    right    and    that    stark 

naught ; 

He  foams  with  censure,  with  applause  he  raves, 
A  dupe  to  rumors  and  a  tool  of  knaves: 
He'll  want  no  type  his  weakness  to  proclaim. 
While  such  a  thing  as  foolscap  has  a  name. ' ' 

In  those  busy  days  of  the  eighteenth  century 
such  a  man  was  needed.  His  newspaper  soon 
became  a  power  in  the  land,  while  Poor  Rich 
ard's  Almanac — what  might  we  not  say  of  it 
and  its  fame !  Begun  in  1732,  it  was  issued  for 
twenty-five  consecutive  years  at  the  rate  of  ten 
thousand  per  year,  and  very  few  families  in 
all  New  England  and  the  neighboring  colonies 
escaped  its  influence.  What  a  collection  of 

76 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


shrewd  sayings  and  proverbs  were  in  those 
quaint  pamphlets!  In  1758  Franklin  collected 
the  principal  statements  in  one  connected  dis 
course,  Father  Abraham's  Speech,  supposed  to 
be  an  address  given  by  a  wise  old  gentleman 
at  an  auction.  The  result  astonished  even  the 
self-possessed  author;  for  the  brief  lecture 
was  universally  applauded.  Poor  Richard, 
who  was  "  excessive  poor  "  and  whose  wife  was 
"  excessive  proud, "  has  become  as  much  a  liv 
ing  figure  in  literature  as  Tom  Jones  or  Mr. 
Pickwick.  His  common-sense  is  so  extreme  that 
it  verges  on  the  ridiculous,  and  just  there  is 
the  main  point  in  Franklin's  humor.  "  The 
poor  man  must  walk  to  get  meat  for  his 
stomach,  the  rich  man  to  get  a  stomach  for  his 
meat."  "  Silks  and  satins,  scarlet  and  velvets, 
put  out  the  kitchen  fire. "  ' '  Three  may  keep  a 
secret  if  two  of  them  are  dead."  "  If  you 
would  have  your  business  done,  go;  if  not, 
send."  "  Keep  thy  shop,  and  thy  shop  will 
keep  thee."  "  Fish  and  visitors  smell  after 
three  days."  Any  one  who  can  read  Father 
Abraham's  harangue  without  smiling  is  a  dan 
gerous  man,  fit  for  treason,  spoil,  and  the  other 
Shakespearian  sins. 

77 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

All  of  Franklin 's  humor  has  a  lesson;  it  is 
meant  to  do  somebody  good — oftentimes  him 
self.  Even  his  practical  jokes  always  were  to 
his  own  profit.  One  day  he  came,  half-frozen 
from  his  long  ride,  to  a  wayside  inn.  A  great 
crowd  was  about  the  fire,  and  for  some  time 
Franklin  stood  shivering.  Suddenly  he  turned 
to  the  hostler. 

"  Hostler,"  said  he  in  a  loud  voice,  "  have 
you  any  oysters'?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,"  commanded  Franklin  in  still 
louder  tones,  ' i  give  my  horse  a  peck !  ' ' 

"  What!  "  exclaimed  the  hostler,  "  give 
your  horse  oysters!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin,  "  give  him  a  peck." 

The  hostler,  decidedly  astonished,  prepared 
the  oysters  and  started  for  the  stable.  Every 
body  instantly  arose  from  the  fire-place  and 
rushed  out  to  see  the  marvellous  horse  eat 
oysters.  Franklin  took  the  most  comfortable 
seat  before  the  roaring  blaze,  and  calmly 
awaited  developments.  Soon  all  returned,  dis 
appointed  and  shivering. 

"  I  gave  him  the  oysters,  sir,"  said  the 
hostler,  "  but  he  wouldn't  eat  them." 

78 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


"  Oh,  well,  then,"  answered  Franklin  non 
chalantly,  "  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  eat  them 
myself.  Suppose  you  try  him  with  a  peck  of 
oats." 

The  other  guests  took  seats  wherever  they 
could  find  any,  and  there  was  silence  for  some 
time. 

His  'Autobiography  contains  several  similar 
instances  of  his  ability  to  take  care  of  Benjamin 
Franklin,  Esquire.  How  narrowly,  by  the  way, 
we  missed  not  having  that  book  at  all!  In 
1771,  while  visiting  at  the  home  of  the  Bishop 
of  St.  Asaph  in  Hampshire,  England,  he  wrote 
a  long  letter  to  his  son,  the  governor  of  New 
Jersey,  telling  some  of  the  main  incidents  of 
his  life.  Thirteen  years  later  the  letter  was 
swept  into  a  garbage  pile  in  the  streets  of 
Philadelphia,  but  luckily  was  found  by  a  friend 
of  Franklin's,  and  was  sent  to  the  philosopher 
with  the  request  that  he  complete  the  account. 
Franklin,  then  at  Passy,  France,  wrote  another 
chapter,  and  four  years  later,  at  Philadelphia, 
added  other  portions  and  brought  the  account 
down  to  1757,  the  year  he  entered  actively  into 
public  life.  Soon  after  his  death,  the  story 
was  translated  into  French,  and  in  1793  was 

79 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

turned  back  into  English  and  published  in  Lon 
don.  In  1817  there  was  a  direct  publication  of 
the  manuscript;  but  not  until  1868  was  there 
given  to  the  world  a  complete  edition  of  this 
highly  profitable  and  entertaining  narrative. 
How  much  we  would  have  missed — his  ridicu 
lous  entry  into  Philadelphia,  his  conflict  be 
tween  his  avarice  and  George  Whitefield's  elo 
quence,  his  shrewdness  in  business  affairs,  his 
good-humored  handling  of  statesmen. 

Franklin  must  have  been  a  centre  of  attrac 
tion  in  all  assemblies.  He  had  a  witty  saying 
ready  for  every  occasion.  We  all  remember 
how  neatly  and  yet  how  significantly  he  an 
swered  the  member  of  the  Colonial  Congress 
who  declared  they  would  all  have  to  hang  to 
gether.  "  Yes,"  rejoined  Franklin,  "  or  verily 
we  shall  hang  separately!  "  Jefferson,  in  his 
biographical  sketches,  tells  how  Franklin,  notic 
ing  his  sensitiveness  over  the  mutilation  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  tried  to  comfort 
him  by  a  little  story:  "  When  I  was  a  journey 
man  printer,  one  of  my  companions,  an  appren 
tice  hatter,  having  served  out  his  time,  was 
about  to  open  shop  for  himself.  His  first  con 
cern  was  to  have  a  handsome  sign-board,  with 

80 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


a  proper  inscription.  He  composed  it  in  these 
words,  '  John  Thompson,  Hatter,  makes  and 
sells  hats  for  ready  money,'  with  a  figure  of  a 
hat  subjoined;  but  he  thought  he  would  submit 
it  to  his  friends  for  their  amendments.  The 
first  he  showed  it  to  thought  the  word  '  Hatter  ' 
tautologous,  because  followed  by  the  words 
'  makes  hats,'  which  showed  he  was  a  hatter. 
It  was  struck  out.  The  next  observed  that  the 
word  i  makes  '  might  as  well  be  omitted,  be 
cause  his  customers  would  not  care  who  made 
the  hats.  If  good  and  to  their  mind,  they  would 
buy,  by  whomsoever  made.  He  struck  it  out. 
A  third  said  he  thought  the  words  i  for  ready 
money  '  were  useless,  as  it  was  not  the  custom 
of  the  place  to  sell  on  credit.  .  .  .  They  were 
parted  with,  and  the  inscription  now  stood, 
1  John  Thompson  sells  hats.'  l  Sells  hats!  ' 
says  his  next  friend.  '  Why  nobody  will  ex 
pect  you  to  give  them  away;  what  then  is  the 
use  of  that  word?  '  It  was  stricken  out,  and 
*  hats  '  followed  it  the  rather  as  there  was  one 
painted  on  the  board.  So  the  inscription  was 
reduced  ultimately  to  '  John  Thompson  '  with 
the  figure  of  a  hat  subjoined."  Jefferson's 
heated  temper  was  cooled  considerably  by  the 
narrative. 

6  81 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

John  Adams  tells  us,  in  his  Diary,  of  another 
story  of  Franklin's — one  that  gave  the  republi 
can  French  extreme  content.  "  A  Spanish 
writer  of  certain  visions  of  Hell  relates  that  a 
certain  devil,  who  was  civil  and  well-bred, 
showed  him  all  the  apartments  of  the  place, 
among  others  that  of  deceased  kings.  The 
Spaniard  was  much  pleased  at  so  illustrious  a 
sight,  and  after  viewing  them  for  some  time 
said  he  should  be  glad  to  see  the  rest  of  them. 
'  The  rest!  '  said  the  demon.  '  Here  are  all 
the  kings  that  ever  reigned  upon  earth  from  the 
creation  of  it  to  this  day.  "What  the  devil 
would  the  man  have?  '  "  It  was  this  ability  to 
tell  a  joke  that  tickled  some  certain  weakness 
in  his  audience  that  made  him  so  useful  in  many 
a  nerve-straining  crisis. 

He  saw  life  clearly  and  did  not  attempt  to 
evade  its  plain  teachings.  His  advice,  while 
often  eccentric  in  appearance,  was  always  sane. 
A  gouty  alderman  came  to  him  seeking  a  cure 
for  the  disease. 

"  Why/'  said  Franklin,  "  take  a  bucket  of 
water  and  a  cord  of  wood  three  times  a  week!  " 

The  alderman  forgot  both  his  dignity  and 
his  gout. 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


66  What!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  how  can  I 
do  that?  " 

"  Well/'  replied  Franklin,  "  drink  a  cup  of 
the  former  three  times  a  day  and  carry  the  lat 
ter  up  three  flights  of  stairs." 

Doubtless  the  alderman  preferred  the  gout. 

Franklin  himself  was  sometimes  a  sufferer 
from  this  aristocratic  ailment,  and  one  of  his 
most  famous  bits  of  humor  is  his  Dialogue  with 
the  Gout. 

Franklin— Ehl  Oh!  Eh!  What  have  I  done  to 
merit  these  cruel  sufferings? 

Gout — Many  things;  you  have  ate  and  drank  too 
freely  and  too  much  indulged  those  legs  of  yours  in 
their  indolence. 

Franklin — Who  is  it  that  accuses  me? 

Gout — It  is  I,  even  I,  the  Gout. 

Franklin — I  take — Eh!  Oh! — as  much  exercise — 
Eh — as  I  can,  Madam  Gout.  You  know  my  seden 
tary  state,  and,  on  that  account,  it  would  seem, 
Madam  Gout,  as  if  you  might  spare  me  a  little,  seeing 
it  is  not  altogether  my  own  fault. 

Gout — Not  a  jot ;  your  rhetoric  and  your  politeness 
are  thrown  away;  your  apology  avails  nothing.  .  .  . 
Why  instead  of  gaining  an  appetite  for  breakfast,  by 
salutary  exercise,  you  amuse  yourself  with  books, 

83 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

pamphlets,  or  newspapers,  which  commonly  are  not 
worth  the  reading.  Yet  you  eat  an  inordinate  break 
fast,  four  dishes  of  tea,  with  cream,  and  one  or  two 
buttered  toast,  with  slices  of  hung  beef,  which  I  fancy 
are  not  things  the  most  easily  digested.  .  .  .  But 
what  is  your  practice  after  dinner?  Walking  in  the 
beautiful  gardens  of  those  friends  with  whom  you 
have  dined  would  be  the  choice  of  men  of  sense; 
yours  is  to  be  fixed  down  to  chess,  where  you  are 
found  engaged  for  two  or  three  hours!  .  .  .  Wrapt 
in  the  speculations  of  this  wretched  game,  you  destroy 
your  constitution.  .  .  .  The  same  taste  prevails  with 
you  in  Passy,  Auteuil,  Montmartre,  or  Sanoy,  places 
where  there  are  the  finest  gardens  and  walks,  a  pure 
air,  beautiful  women  and  most  agreeable  and  instruc 
tive  conversation ;  all  which  you  might  enjoy  by  fre 
quenting  the  walks.  But  these  are  rejected  for  this 
abominable  game  of  chess.  Fie  then,  Mr.  Franklin! 
But  amidst  my  instructions  I  had  almost  forgot  to 
administer  my  wholesome  corrections;  so  take  that 
twinge — and  that. 

Franklin — Oh !  Eh !  Oh !  Ohhh !  as  much  instruction 
as  you  please,  Madam  Gout,  and  as  many  reproaches ; 
but  pray,  Madam,  a  truce  with  your  corrections. 

Gout — No,  Sir,  no — I  will  not  abate  a  particle  of 
what  is  so  much  for  your  good, — therefore — 

Franklin — Your  reasoning  grows  tiresome. 
Gout — I  stand  corrected.     I  will  be  silent  and  con 
tinue  my  office;  take  that,  and  that. 

84 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


Franklin — Oh!  Ohh!     Talk  on,  I  pray  you! 

Gout — No,  no;  I  have  a  good  number  of  twinges 
for  you  to-night,  and  you  may  be  sure  of  some  more 
to-morrow. 

Franklin — What,  with  such  a  fever!  I  shall  go 
distracted.  Oh!  Eh!  Can  no  one  bear  it  for  me? 

Gout — Ask  that  of  your  horses;  they  have  served 
you  faithfully. 

Franklin — I  am  convinced  now  of  the  justness  of 
Poor  Richard's  remark  that  "  our  debts  and  our  sins 
are  always  greater  than  we  think  for." 

Gout — So  it  is.  Your  philosophers  are  sages  in 
your  maxims  and  fools  in  your  conduct. 

Franklin — Ah!  how  tiresome  you  are! 
Gout — Well,  then,  to  my  office ;  it  should  not  be  for 
gotten  that  I  am  your  physician.     There. 
Franklin — Ohh!  What  a  devil  of  a  physician. 

Franklin  was  so  extremely  busy  in  the  vari 
ous  governmental  actions  connected  with  the 
Eevolution  that  he  doubtless  did  not  have  time 
to  write  as  much  as  other  wits  of  the  day  in 
defence  of  his  native  land.  That  he  by  no 
means  lacked  the  ability  is  shown  by  at  least 
three  cunningly  phrased  and  bitterly  satirical 
sketches  written  by  him  to  show  the  injustice 

85 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

of  the  British  position.  These  were  his  Rules 
for  Reducing  a  Great  Empire  to  a  Small  one 
(1773),  An  Edict  by  the  King  of  Prussia 
(1773),  and  a  letter  of  instructions  From  the 
Count  de  Schaumbergh  to  the  Baron  Hohen- 
dorf  commanding  the  Hessian  Troops  in 
America  (1777). 

The  first  of  these  tells  with  a  bitterness,  all 
the  more  effective  because  of  its  calmness,  just 
how  to  destroy  a  nation.  The  method,  of 
course,  coincides  identically  with  that  then  be 
ing  pursued  by  Great  Britain  in  her  dealings 
with  her  colonies.  Note  a  few  lines  from  this 
sarcastic  broadside : 

"  An  ancient  sage  valued  himself  upon  this,  that 
though  he  could  not  fiddle,  he  knew  how  to  make  a 
great  city  of  a  little  one.  The  science  that  I,  a  mod 
ern  simpleton,  am  about  to  communicate,  is  the  very 
reverse. 

"1.  In  the  first  place,  gentlemen,  you  are  to  con 
sider  that  a  great  empire,  like  a  great  cake,  is  most 
easily  diminished  at  the  edges.  Turn  your  attention, 
therefore,  first  to  your  remotest  provinces;  that,  as 
you  get  rid  of  them,  the  next  may  follow  in  order. 

"  2.  That  the  possibility  of  this  separation  may 
always  exist,  take  special  care  the  provinces  are  never 
incorporated  ivith  the  mother  country ;  that  they  do 

86 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


not  enjoy  the  same  common  rights,  the  same  privileges 
in  commerce;  and  that  they  are  governed  by  severer 
laws,  all  of  your  enacting,  without  allowing  them  any 
share  in  the  choice  of  the  legislators. 

11  4.  However  peaceably  your  colonies  have  sub 
mitted  to  your  government,  shown  their  affection  to 
your  interests,  and  patiently  borne  their  grievances, 
you  are  to  suppose  them  always  inclined  to  revolt,  and 
treat  them  accordingly.  Quarter  troops  upon  them, 
who  by  their  insolence  may  provoke  the  rising  of  mobs, 
and  by  their  bullets  and  bayonets  suppress  them.  By 
this  means,  like  the  husband  who  uses  his  wife  ill  from 
suspicion,  you  may  in  time  convert  your  suspicions 
into  realities. 


. . 


7.  When  such  governors  have  crammed  their 
coffers,  and  made  themselves  so  odious  to  the  people 
that  they  can  no  longer  remain  among  them,  with 
safety  to  their  persons,  recall  and  reward  them  with 
pensions.  You  may  make  them  baronets  too,  if  that 
respectable  order  should  not  think  fit  to  resent  it. 
All  this  will  contribute  to  encourage  new  governors  in 
the  same  practice,  and  make  the  supreme  government 
detestable." 

The  second  Franklin  satire,  An  Edict  ly  the 
King  of  Prussia,  caused  a  great  commotion  in 
England.  Couched  in  diplomatic  terms,  and 

87 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

sounding  somewhat  like  other  papers  by 
Frederick  the  Great,  it  was  taken  by  numerous 
English  to  be  the  real  article,  and  great  was 
their  indignation  toward  the  impudent  German 
ruler.  Franklin,  noting  Great  Britain's  ex 
tensive  claims  upon  the  colonies,  published  in 
the  Public  Advertiser  an  edict  by  Frederick 
making  exactly  the  same  claims  upon  the  Brit 
ish  Isles.  It  contained  most  serious  language. 
"  And  all  persons  in  the  said  island  are  hereby 
cautioned  not  to  oppose  in  any  wise  the  execu 
tion  of  this,  our  edict,  or  any  part  thereof,  such 
opposition  being  high  treason;  of  which  all 
who  are  suspected  shall  be  transported  in  fet 
ters  from  Britain  to  Prussia,  there  to  be  tried 
and  executed  according  to  the  Prussian  Law." 
According  to  Franklin,  he  himself  was  present 
at  an  English  breakfast  table  when  a  guest  came 
rushing  in  with  the  paper,  and  shouting, 
"  Here's  news  for  ye!  Here's  the  King  of 
Prussia  claiming  a  right  to  this  kingdom!  " 
A  few  paragraphs  were  read,  and  then  another 
guest  burst  forth:  "  Damn  his  impudence;  I 
dare  say  we  shall  hear  by  next  post  that  he  is 
upon  his  march  with  one  hundred  thousand  men 
to  back  this!  "  Later  the  reader  began  to  dis- 

88 


EARLY  COLONIAL  HUMOR 


cern  the  hoax,  and,  turning  to  Franklin,  said 
with  disgust,  "  I'll  be  hanged  if  this  is  not  some 
of  your  American  jokes  upon  us." 

The  third  of  Franklin's  war  satires,  Count  de 
Schaumbergh's  instructions,  deals  with  that  in 
famous  bargain  by  which  princes  of  Germany 
sold  the  bodies  and  souls  of  their  Hessian  sub 
jects  to  be  used  by  the  British  king  against  his 
own  subjects.  This  is  one  of  the  bitterest  satires 
of  colonial  days;  it  is  indeed  too  bitter  to  be 
amusing.  It  shows  that  beneath  the  calmness 
of  its  philosophical  author  there  was  the  fiery, 
hating  soul  of  the  patriot. 

There  are  a  thousand  and  one  anecdotes  and 
jokes  of  Franklin's  that  we  might  hear  again 
with  entertainment ;  but  we  must  leave  him  and 
them;  for,  to  use  his  own  words,  perhaps  we 
"  are  paying  too  much  for  the  whistle."  In 
him  we  have  a  genuine  specimen  of  American 
common-sense,  a  common-sense  so  large,  even  at 
times  so  disproportioned,  as  to  appear  almost 
lop-sided  and  "  funny."  Yet,  in  it  is  that  same 
hidden  censure,  that  disgust  for  all  shams,  that 
standing  for  honest,  even  if  earthy,  ideals 
which  has  characterized  the  great  majority  of 
the  successors  of  this  pioneer  in  American  hu- 

89 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

mor.  And  in  the  words  of  Bancroft,  in  his  New 
York  Historical  Society  lecture  of  December 
9, 1852,  "  Franklin  was  the  greatest  diplomatist 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  never  spoke  a 
word  too  soon ;  he  never  spoke  a  word  too  late ; 
he  never  spoke  a  word  too  much ;  he  never  failed 
to  speak  the  right  word  at  the  right  season. " 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


L 


In  times  of  war  we  may,  of  course,  expect 
scornful  sarcasm  and  biting  satire;  and,  there 
fore,  as  we  approach  the  prolonged  struggle  of 
the  American  Eevolution,  we  find  the  American 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  becoming  more  and  more 
alert.  The  colonist  becomes  eager  to  discern 
the  weakness  of  his  enemy,  to  discover  all  of 
that  enemy's  predicaments,  and  to  set  them 
with  taunting  laughter  before  the  world.  Many 
were  the  satirical  "  take-offs  "  of  the  day. 
They  began,  not  suddenly,  but  many  years  be 
fore  the  actual  outbreak  of  war;  indeed,  we 
might  easily  trace  the  bitterness  of  feeling 
through  occasional  verse  back  even  to  Bacon's 
Rebellion  in  1676.  But  as  we  draw  near  the 
momentous  year,  1776,  the  harvest  of  satirical 
sketches  and  poems  is  indeed  plentiful. 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  GEORGIA 

In  1740,  for  instance,  three  Georgia  patriots 
of  Scotch-Irish  blood,  Patrick  Tailfer,  Hugh 

91 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Anderson,  and  David  Douglas,  issued  against 
Governor  Oglethorpe  a  bitter  tirade  entitled 
A  True  and  Historical  Narrative  of  Georgia. 
Here  is  sarcasm  enough  for  any  man — even  for 
the  greedy  Oglethorpe  himself.  Many  coun 
tries,  declare  the  three  hot-heads,  "  fondly 
imagine  it  necessary  to  communicate  to  such 
young  settlements  the  fullest  rights  and  proper 
ties,  all  the  immunities  of  their  mother-coun 
tries,  and  privileges  rather  more  extensive. 
.  .  .  But  your  Excellency's  concern  for  our 
perpetual  welfare  could  never  permit  you  to 
propose  such  transitory  advantages  for  us. 
You  considered  riches,  like  a  divine  and  a 
philosopher,  as  the  irrit amenta  malonim,  and 
knew  that  they  were  disposed  to  inflate  weak 
minds  with  pride,  to  hamper  the  "body  with  lux 
ury,  and  introduce  a  long  variety  of  evils.  Thus 
have  you  '  protected  us  from  ourselves,'  as  Mr. 
Waller  says,  by  keeping  all  earthly  comforts 
from  us.  You  have  afforded  us  the  oppor 
tunity  of  arriving  at  the  integrity  of  the  primi 
tive  times  by  entailing  a  more  than  primitive 
poverty  on  us.  ...  The  valuable  virtue  of 
humility  is  secured  to  us  by  your  care  to  pre 
vent  our  procuring,  or  so  much  as  seeing,  any 

92 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

negroes  .  .  .  lest  our  simplicity  might  mistake 
the  poor  Africans  for  greater  slaves  than  our 
selves.  .  .  . 

Like  Death  you  reign 
O'er  silent  subjects  and  a  desert  plain." 

Under  the  first  flush  of  war,  satires  appeared 
in  practically  every  newspaper  in  the  colonies. 
Of  course,  tea  soon  came  in  for  its  full  share 
of  sarcasm.  One  patriotic  woman  wrote  a 
poem  entitled  Virginia  Banishing  Tea,  contain 
ing  the  lines : 

"  Begone,   pernicious,  Baleful   Tea, 
With  all  Pandora's  ills  possessed; 
Hyson,  no  more  beguiled  by  thee, 
My  noble  sons  shall  be  oppressed." 

Another  hater  of  British  tea  and  tyranny 
wrote : 

11  Vain,  foolish  curmudgeons, 
To  think  we,  like  gudgeons, 
Swallow  baits  that  of  Freedom  bereaves ; 
Tea,  nabobs,  and  minions, 
With  their  dire  opinions, 
May  be  damned — but  we  '11  not  be  slaves. ' ' 
93 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  TIMES 

Perhaps  the  best  of  the  innumerable  sarcas 
tic  sketches  on  the  drink  was  the  series  of 
pamphlets  entitled  The  First  Book  of  the 
American  Chronicles  of  the  Times,  issued  in 
1774  and  1775.  Its  mock  dignity  as  a  parody 
on  the  Bible  adds  much  to  its  sharp  criticisms 
on  British  injustice.  A  few  quotations  to  show 
its  flavor: 

"  1.  And  behold!  when  the  tidings  came  to  the 
great  city  that  is  afar  off,  the  city  that  is  in  the  land 
of  Britain,  how  the  men  of  Boston,  even  the  Boston- 
ites,  had  arose,  a  great  multitude,  and  destroyed  the 
Tea,  the  abominable  Merchandise  of  the  east  and  cast 
it  into  the  midst  of  the  sea, 

"  2.  That  the  Lord  the  King  waxed  exceeding 
wroth,  insomuch  that  the  form  of  his  visage  was 
changed,  and  his  knees  smote  one  against  the  other. 

"  3.  Then  he  assembled  together  the  Princes,  the 
Nobles,  the  Counselors,  the  Judges,  and  all  the  Rulers 
of  the  people,  .  .  .  and  when  he  had  told  them  what 
things  were  come  to  pass, 

' '  4.  They  smote  their  breasts  and  said,  '  These  men 
fear  thee  not,  0  King,  neither  have  they  obeyed  the 
voice  of  our  Lord  the  King,  nor  worshipped  the  Tea- 
Chest,  which  thou  has  set  up.  .  .  . '  ' 

94 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

The  King,  following  the  advice  of  his  wise 
men,  sends  an  army,  under  "  Thomas  the 
Gageite,"  to  subdue  the  Bostonites;  but  a  sor 
rowful  letter  from  this  leader  tells  of  great 
expectations  ruined: 

"  5.  *  O  King,  thy  servant  is  in  a  great  strait;  the 
men  of  New  England  are  stiff-necked,  and  as  stub 
born  hogs,  neither  knoweth  thy  servant  what  to  make 
of  them ;  they  are  worse  unto  me  than  all  the  plagues 
of  Egypt. 

"  6.  *  For  they  resolve  upon  resolves,  they  address, 
they  complain,  they  protest,  they  compliment,  they 
flatter,  they  sooth  and  they  threatened  to  root  me  up. 

"  9.  '  For  the  men  of  New  England  are  as  venom 
ous  as  the  poison  of  a  serpent,  even  like  the  deaf 
adder  that  stoppeth  her  ears;  they  give  good  words 
with  their  mouths,  but  curse  with  their  hearts;  they 
go  to  and  fro  in  the  evening  and  grin  like  a  dog,  and 
run  about  through  the  city ;  they  slander  thy  servant, 
they  make  a  byword  of  him,  and  grudge  him  every 
thing;  yet  complain  if  they  be  not  satisfied. 

"  10.  '  Surely,  0  King,  the  spirit  of  Oliver  or  the 
devil  is  got  in  them.' 


. . 


36.  Now  it  came  to  pass,  while  the  Gageites 
abode  in  the  land  of  the  Bostonites,  they  day  by  day 
committed  iniquity;  they  made  great  clattering  with 

95 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

their  sackbuts,  their  psalteries,  their  dulcimers,  bands 
of  music,  and  vain  parade. 

"  37.  And  they  drummed  with  their  drums,  and 
piped  with  their  pipes,  making  mock  fights,  and  run 
ning  to  and  fro  like  shitepokes  on  the  muddy  shore. 

"  38.  Moreover,  by  night,  they  abused  the  watch 
men  on  duty,  and  the  young  children  of  Boston  by 
the  wayside,  making  mouths  at  them,  calling  them 
Yankees. " 

Then,  at  length,  says  the  chronicler,  when 
this  condition  was  no  longer  bearable,  Jeremiah 
(Samuel  Adams)  and  other  prophets  of  the 
Americanites  spake  loud  and  showed  the  peo 
ple  how  they  were  about  to  be  compelled  to 
"  bow  down  to  the  Tea  Chest,  the  God  of  the 
Heathen."  "And  they  assembled  themselves 
together,  in  a  Congress  in  the  great  city  of 
Philadelphia,  in  the  house  of  the  Carpenters, 
the  builders'  house,  in  the  land  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  on  the  seventh  day  of  the  ninth  month, 
with  their  coaches,  their  chariots,  their  camels, 
their  horsemen,  and  their  servants,  a  great  mul 
titude  and  they  communed  together." 

Thus  we  have  the  course  of  history  from  the 
Night  of  the  Tea  Chest  to  the  Day  of  the 
Declaration. 

96 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Such  pamphlets  and  tracts,  spread  through 
out  the  principal  cities  and  even  into  the  rural 
districts,  of  course  caused  the  colonists  much 
merriment,  and,  in  no  small  degree,  contributed 
to  their  confidence  and  to  their  growing  dis 
like  for  things  British.  John  Adams  says  that 
he  found  in  one  home  King  George's  picture 
standing  upside  down  on  the  floor,  with  this 
inscription  attached: 


Behold  the  man  who  had  it  in  his  power, 
To  make  a  kingdom  tremble  and  adore. 
Intoxicate  with  folly,  see  his  head 
Placed  where  the  meanest  of  his  subjects  tread. 
Like  Lucifer,  the  giddy  tyrant  fell : 
He  lifts  his  heels  to  Heaven,  but  points  his  head  to 
Hell." 


After  war  really  began,  the  satirical  squibs 
came  thick  and  fast.  The  ridiculous  retreat  of 
the  British  from  Concord  was  the  source  of 
many  a  sarcastic  verse,  while  the  Battle  of 
Bunker  Hill  with  its  "  near-victory  "  for  the 
Americans  gave  many  a  patriotic  scribbler  an 
opportunity  to  show  his  talent.  A  few  speci 
mens  must  suffice.  Thus,  a  ballad,  widely  cir- 

7  97 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

culated  in  the  Bevolutionary  days  and  sup 
posed  to  be  written  by  a  Yankee-Irishman,  was 
the  one  commonly  entitled  An  Address  to  the 
Troops  in  Boston: 

AN  ADDRESS  TO  THE  TROOPS 

"  By  me  faith,  but  I  think  ye 're  all  makers  of  bulls, 
Wid  your  brains  in  your  breeches,  your  guts  in  your 

skulls ! 
Get  home  wid  your  muskets,  and  put  up  your 

swords, 

And  look  in  your  books  for  the  meaning  of  words : 
Ye  see  now,  me  honeys,  how  much  ye  're  mistaken, — 
For  Concord  by  discord  can  never  be  baten!  " 

* '  How  brave  ye  wint  out  wid  your  muskets  all  bright, 
And  thought  to  bef lighten  the  folks  wid  the  sight ; 
But  whin  ye  got  there,  how  they  powder 'd  your 

pums, 
And  all  the  waj?  home  how  they  pepper 'd  your 


And  is  it  not,  honeys,  a  comical  crack, 

To  be  proud  in  the  face,  and  be  shot  in  the  back? 

"  And  what  have  ye  got  now,  wid  all  your  designin', 
But  a  town  without  victuals  to  sit  down  and  dine 
in; 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

And  to  look  on  the  ground  like  a  parcel  of  noodles, 
And   sing  how  the   Yankees   have   conquer 't   the 

Doodles ; 
I'm  sure   if  ye 're   wise,   ye '11  make   peace  for  a 

dinner — 
For  fightin'  and  fastin'  will  soon  make  ye  thinner." 

Shortly  before  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
when  Clinton,  Howe  and  Burgoyne  had  ar 
rived  to  end  quickly  and  permanently  this  petty 
rebellion  of  colonial  ruffians,  there  appeared 
for  sale  on  the  streets  of  the  three  leading 
cities,  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  a 
lively  ballad  with  plenty  of  ginger  and  snap, 
and  a  world  of  scorn  for  British  governmental 
ideas, — A  New  Song  to  an  Old  Tune.  Tea  and 
taxation,  as  usual,  come  in  for  discussion;  as 
we  may  see  from  these  few  lines: 


A  NEW  SONG 

"  There  is  no  knowing  where  this  oppression  will 

stop; 

Some  say — '  There's  no  cure  hut  a  capitol  chop  '; 
And  that  I  believe 's  each  American's  wish, 
Since  you've  drenched  them  with  tea,  and  deprived 
'em  of  fish. 

99 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  The  birds  of  the  air  and  the  fish  of  the  sea, 

By  the  gods,  for  poor  Dan  Adams'  use  were  made 

free, 
Till  a  man  with  more  power  than  old  Moses  would 

wish, 
Said — '  Ye  wretches,  ye  shan't  touch  a  fowl  or  a 

fishi' 

"  Three  Generals  these  mandates  have  borne  cross 

the  sea, 

To  deprive  'em  of  fish  and  to  make  'em  drink  tea; 
In  turn,  sure,  these  freemen  will  boldly  agree 
To  give  'em  a  dance  upon  Liberty  Tree." 

ANOTHER  PROPHECY 

One  of  these  generals,  Howe,  had  a  good 
reputation  as  a  warrior,  and  at  first  the  patriots 
were  fearful  lest  victory  might  indeed  prove 
easy  for  him.  The  Loyalists  knew  this,  and 
one  of  them,  to  help  along  the  British  cause, 
started  the  report  that  a  prophetic  hen  at  Ply 
mouth  had  laid  an  egg  bearing  upon  its  shell 
the  inscription:  "  Oh,  America!  Howe  shall  be 
thy  conqueror.''  But  as  time  dragged  on  and 
Howe's  strategic  gifts  shone  with  a  most  dim 
lustre,  the  Americans  took  heart,  and  one  of 
them  in  turn  answered  the  hen  in  Another 

Prophecy,  a  part  of  which  ran  thus : 

100 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  When  eggs  can  speak  what  fools  endite, 
And  hens  can  talk  as  well  as  write, 
When  crocodiles  shed  honest  tears, 
And  truth  with  hypocrites  appears; 
When  every  man  becomes  a  knave 
And  feels  the  spirit  of  the  slave, 
And  when  veracity  again 
Shall  in  a  Tory's  bosom  reign; 
When  vice  is  virtue,  darkness  light, 
And  freemen  are  afraid  to  fight; 
When  they  forget  to  play  the  men 
And  with  the  spirit  of  a  hen 
Desert  the  just  and  sacred  cause, 
And  opening  Heaven  smiles  applause 
On  such  a  bloody,  barbarous  foe, — 
Then  I'll  be  conquered  by  a  Howe!  " 

But  let  us  not  think  for  a  moment  that  the 
renowned  Howe  received  all  the  broadsides; 
Burgoyne,  Benedict  Arnold,  and  many  another 
enemy  of  the  American  cause  were  handled 
with  justice  if  not  with  mercy. 

"  In  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-seven 
General  Burgoyne  set  out  for  Heaven; 
But  as  the  Yankees  would  rebel, 
He  missed  his  route,  and  went — to  Hell!  " 
101 


AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


And  this  for  Arnold,  appearing  in  the  New 
Jersey  Gazette,  November  1,  1780: 

"  Quoth  Satan  to  Arnold:  '  My  worthy  good  fellow, 

I  love  you  much  better  than  ever  I  did; 
You  live  like  a  prince,  with  Hal  *  may  get  mellow,  — 
But  mind  that  you  both  do  just  what  I  bid.' 

"  Quoth  Arnold  to  Satan:  '  My  friend,  do  not  doubt 

me! 

I  will  strictly  adhere  to  all  your  great  views  ; 
To  you  I'm  devoted,  with  all  things  about  me  — 
You'll  permit  me,  I  hope,  to  die  in  my  shoes.7  " 


*Hal:  Sir.  Henry  Clinton. 


II 


WITHERSPOON'S  PARODY 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  many  local  con 
flicts  of  wit  resulted  from  the  ill-feeling  be 
tween  Tory  and  patriot.  Many  a  mocking 
laugh  echoes  down  from  those  troubled  days. 
Note,  for  example,  John  Witherspoon's  parody 
on  James  Rivington 's  petition  to  Congress. 
Rivington  was  a  New  York  printer  whose  sym 
pathy  was  decidedly  with  the  British  but  whose 
prosperous  business  was  decidedly  with  the 
Americans.  Accordingly,  in  May,  1775,  he 
wrote  a  paper,  A  Tory's  Petition  to  the  Conti 
nental  Congress,  in  which  he  endeavored  to 
show  his  neutrality,  promised  to  give  no  offence 
and  boasted  somewhat  of  the  extensiveness  of 
his  business.  Rivington  was  extremely  un 
popular  among  the  patriots — his  office  was 
afterwards  mobbed — and  many  sarcastic  com 
mentaries  were  made  upon  his  petition.  It  re 
mained  for  old  John  Witherspoon,  Scotchman, 

103 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

preacher,  college-president,  and  signer  of  the 
Declaration  (pardon  the  combination!),  to 
voice  the  sentiments  of  the  people  in  a  widely 
read  parody.  It  "respectively  sheweth — 

11  That  a  great  part  of  the  British  forces  has  already 
left  this  city,  and  from  many  symptoms  there  is  reason 
to  suspect  that  the  remainder  will  speedily  follow 
them.  Where  they  are  gone  or  going  is  perhaps  known 
to  themselves,  perhaps  not;  certainly,  however,  it  is 
unknown  to  us,  the  loyal  inhabitants  of  the  place,  and 
other  friends  of  government  who  have  taken  refuge 
in  it,  and  who  are  therefore  filled  with  distress  and 
terror  on  the  unhappy  occasion. 

1 1  That  as  soon  as  the  evacuation  is  completed,  it  is 
more  than  probable,  the  city  will  be  taken  possession 
of  by  the  forces  of  your  high  mightiness,  followed  by 
vast  crowds  of  other  persons — Whigs  by  nature  and 
profession — friends  to  the  liberties  and  foes  to  the 
enemies  of  America.  Above  all,  it  will  undoubtedly 
be  filled  with  shoals  of  Yankees,  that  is  to  say,  the 
natives  and  inhabitants  (or  as  a  great  lady  in  this 
metropolis  generally  expresses  it,  the  wretches}  of 
New  England. 

"  That  your  petitioner,  in  particular,  is  at  the 
greatest  loss  what  to  resolve  upon  or  how  to  shape  his 
course.  He  has  no  desire  at  all,  either  to  be  roasted 
in  Florida,  or  frozen  to  death  in  Canada  or  Nova 

104 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Scotia.  Being  a  great  lover  of  fresh  cod,  he  has  had 
thoughts  of  trying  a  settlement  in  Newfoundland, 
but  recollecting  that  the  New  England  men  have 
almost  all  the  same  appetite,  he  was  obliged  to  re 
linquish  that  project  entirely.  If  he  should  go  to 
Great  Britain,  dangers  no  less  formidable  present 
themselves.  Having  been  a  bankrupt  in  London,  it 
is  not  impossible  that  he  might  be  accommodated  with 
a  lodging  in  Newgate,  and  that  the  ordinary  there 
might  oblige  him  to  say  his  prayers,  a  practice  from 
which  he  hath  had  an  insuperable  aversion  all  his  life 
long. 

"  I  beg  leave  to  suggest  that  upon  being  received 
into  favor,  I  think  it  would  be  in  my  power  to  serve 
the  United  States  in  several  important  respects.  I 
believe  many  of  your  officers  want  politeness.  They 
are,  like  old  Cineinnatus,  taken  from  the  plough ;  and 
therefore  must  still  have  a  little  roughness  in  their 
manners  and  deportment.  Now,  I  myself  am  the 
pink  of  courtesy,  a  genteel,  portly,  well-looking  fel 
low  as  you  will  see  in  a  summer's  day.  ...  I  hear 
with  pleasure  that  your  people  are  pretty  good 
scholars,  and  have  made  particularly  very  happy  ad 
vances  in  the  art  of  swearing,  so  essentially  necessary 
to  a  gentleman.  Yet  I  dare  say  they  will  themselves 
confess,  that  they  are  still  in  this  respect  far  inferior 
to  the  English  army.  There  is,  by  all  account,  a 
coarseness  and  sameness  in  their  expressions ;  whereas 
there  is  variety,  sprightliness,  and  figure  in  the  oaths 

105 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

of  gentlemen  well  educated.  ...  I  have  imported 
many  of  the  most  necessary  articles  for  appearance 
in  genteel  life.  I  can  give  them  Lavornitti's  soap- 
balls  to  wash  their  brown  hands  clean,  perfumed 
gloves,  paint,  powder,  and  pomatum.  .  .  . 

' l  Finally,  I  hope  I  may  be  of  service  to  the  United 
States  as  a  writer,  publisher,  collector,  and  maker  of 
news.  ...  I  might  write  those  things  only,  or  chiefly 
which  you  wish  to  be  disbelieved,  and  thus  render  you 
the  most  essential  service.  ...  It  would  be  endless  to 
mention  all  my  devices ;  and  therefore  I  will  only  say 
further  that  I  can  take  a  truth  and  so  puff  and  swell 
and  adorn  it,  still  keeping  the  proportion  of  its  parts, 
but  enlarging  their  dimensions,  that  you  could  hardly 
discover  where  the  falsehood  lay,  in  case  of  a  strict 
investigation, " 


Ill 


TORY  SATIRES 

The  Tory  satires  that  have  been  handed 
down  to  this  day  are  far  less  numerous  and  de 
cidedly  less  talented  than  similar  efforts  by  the 
patriots.  This  may  be  because  the  Tories,  be 
ing  in  the  minority,  may  have  feared  to  speak 
with  the  same  recklessness  as  their  opponents ; 
or,  perhaps,  the  better  the  Tory  pamphlets  and 
tracts  were,  the  more  quickly  and  completely 
they  were  destroyed  by  the  "Yankees." 
Moreover,  the  Loyalists  could  print  their  broad 
sides  only  in  New  York  or  Boston,  where  the 
British  soldiers  were  for  a  time  in  absolute 
control.  But  whatever  the  Tories'  sheets 
lacked  in  quantity  and  genius,  they  apparently 
endeavored  to  make  up  in  epithets,  foul  lan 
guage,  and  an  irritating  condescension.  Moses 
Coit  Tyler  in  his  Literary  History  of  the 
American  Revolution  gives  three  reasons  for 
this  last  characteristic:  (1)  Loyalists  had  an 

107 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

unclouded  conviction  that  they  themselves  were 
right;  (2)  they  had  been  accustomed  to  leading 
all  social  and  political  movements,  and  there 
fore  considered  the  Revolution  a  plebeian  en 
terprise;  (3)  the  Loyalists  fully  expected  Great 
Britain  to  win.  "  Since  they  could  not  reason 
down  the  rebellion,  they  meant,  not  only  to  fight 
it  down,  but  to  laugh  it  down,  to  sneer  it  down, 
and  to  make  it  seem  to  all  the  world  as  ridicu 
lous  as,  to  themselves,  it  already  seemed  sor 
did  and  vulgar  and  weak."  Apparently  only 
the  most  violent  "  tongue-lashings  "  would 
serve  for  this  purpose. 

THE  PAUSING  LOYALIST 

Undoubtedly  numerous  colonists  became 
"  patriots  "  through  fear  that  their  property 
would  be  confiscated  and  they  themselves  be 
driven  into  exile.  The  Congress  of  1774  had 
created  a  so-called  "  association  "  to  be  as 
sented  to  by  every  believer  in  American  liberty. 
This,  of  course,  the  Tories  considered  a  tempt 
ing  subject  for  sarcastic  consideration,  and  the 
few  journals  which  would  receive  contributions 
from  Britain's  friends  printed  poetic  and  prose 
comments  that  must  have  enraged  the  "em- 

108 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

battled  farmers."  For  instance,  the  Middle- 
sex  Journal  of  January  30,  1776,  published  a 
typical  specimen  entitled  The  Pausing  Loyal 
ist: 

"  To  sign,  or  not  to  sign! — That  is  the  question: 
Whether  't  were  better  for  an  honest  man 
To  sign — and  so  be  safe;  or  to  resolve, 
Betide  what  will,  against  l  associations,' 
And,  by  retreating,  shun  them.     To  fly — I  reck 
Not  where — and,  by  that  flight,  t'  escape 
Feathers  and  tar,  and  thousand  other  ills 
That  Loyalty  is  heir  to:  'tis  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wished.     To  fly — to  want — 
To  want? — perchance  to  starve!    Ay,  there's  the 

rub! 

For  in  that  chance  of  want,  what  ills  may  come 
To  patriot  rage  when  I  have  left  my  all, 
Must  give  us  pause!     There's  the  respect 
That  makes  us  trim,  and  bow  to  men  we  hate. 
For  who  would  bear  th'  indignities  o'  the  times, 
Congress  decrees,  and  wild  Convention  plans, 
The  laws  controll'd,  and  inj'ries  unredressed, 
The  insolence  of  knaves,  and  thousand  wrongs 
Which  patient  liegemen  from  vile  rebels  take, 
When  he,  sans  doubt,  might  certain  safety  find 
Only  by  flying?    Who  would  bend  to  fools 
And  truckle  thus  to  mad,  mob-chosen  upstarts, 
But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  flight 
(In  that  blest  country,  where,  yet,  no  moneyless 
109 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Poor  wight  can  live)  puzzles  the  will, 

And  makes  ten  thousands  rather  sign — and  eat, 

Than  fly — to  starve  on  Loyalty  !  "  .  .  . 

There  is  a  certain  grim  despair  in  the  smil 
ing  condescension  of  such  lines. 

THE  CONGRESS 

Indeed  it  must  have  gone  hard  with  these 
men  who  could  trace  their  ancestry  back  to  the 
days  of  the  Normans  to  see  themselves  derided 
and  perhaps  persecuted  by  those  whom  they 
considered  merely  country  laborers  or  town 
mechanics  and  shop-keepers.  The  Loyalist 
impression  of  the  social  standing  of  these  fel 
lows  was  pretty  well  summed  up  in  the  ballad, 
The  Congress,  written  in  1776: 

11  These  hardy  knaves  and  stupid  fools, 
Some  apish  and  pragmatic  mules, 
Some  servile  acquiescing  tools, — 
These,  these  compose  the  Congress! 

"  When  Jove  resolved  to  send  a  curse, 
And  all  the  woes  of  life  rehearse, 
Not  plague,  not  famine,  but  much  worse — 
He  cursed  us  with  a  Congress. 


110 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Good  Lord!  disperse  this  venal  tribe; 
Their  doctrine  let  no  fools  imbibe — 
Let  Balaam  no  more  asses  ride, 
Nor  burdens  bear  to  Congress. 

"  Old  Catiline,  and  Cromwell  too, 
Jack  Cade,  and  his  seditious  crew, 
Hail  brother-rebel  at  first  view, 
And  hope  to  meet  the  Congress. " 

This  same  sneering  tone  sounds  through 
practically  every  poem  of  Tory  origin.  Caste 
is  the  hardest  of  all  institutions  to  break  down, 
and  the  fact  was  just  as  evident  in  the  Ameri 
can  Eevolution  as  in  any  other  great  social 
upheaval.  North  and  South  the  sneer  was  the 
same.  A  South  Carolina  Loyalist  declared 
that 

"  Priests,  tailors,  and  cobblers  fill  with  heroes  the 
camp, 

And    sailors,    like    crawfish,    crawl    out     of    each 

swamp;  " 

while  John  Ferdinand  Smyth,  a  New  England 
Loyalist,  in  his  ballad,  The  Rebels,  similarly 
declared  that 

"  With  loud  peals  of  laughter,  your  sides,  sirs,  would 
crack, 

ill 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

To  see  General  Convict  and  Colonel  Shoe-black, 

With  their  hunting-shirts  and  rifle-guns; 

See  cobblers  and  quacks,  rebel  priests  and  the  like, 

Pettifoggers  and  barbers,  with  sword  and  with  pike, 

All  strutting,  the  standard  of  Satan  beside, 

And  honest  names  using,  their  black  deeds  to  hide." 

ON  TOM  PAINE 

Nor  were  these  sarcastic  commentaries  on 
the  American  warriors  always  general;  they 
frequently  dealt  in  personalities.  The  New 
York  Gazette  (August  11, 1779),  the  paper  pub 
lished  by  the  James  Bivington  noted  above, 
took  delight  in  presenting  numerous  "  personal 
tokens  "  similar  to  the  following  one  on  Tom 
Paine : 

"  Hail  mighty  Thomas!  in  whose  works  are  seen 
A  mangled  Morris  and  distorted  Deane; 
[Whose  splendid  periods  flash  for  Lee's  defense, — 
Replete  with  everything  but  Common  Sense. 
You,  by  whose  labors  no  man  e  Jer  was  wiser, 
You,  of  invective  great  monopolizer; 
O  say,  what  name  shall  dignify  the  lays 
Which  now  I  consecrate  to  sing  thy  praise! 
In  pity  tell  by  what  exalted  name 
Thou  would 'st  be  damned  to  an  eternal  fame: 
Shall  Common  Sense  or  Comus  greet  thine  ear, 
A  piddling  poet,  or  puffed  pamphleteer? 


112 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

By  daily  slanders  earn  thy  daily  food, 
Exalt  the  wicked,  and  depress  the  good; 
And  having  spent  a  lengthy  life  in  evil, 
Return  again  unto  thy  parent  devil !  ' ' 

In  short,  the  Tory  estimate  of  the  enemy  was 
nothing  more  or  less  than  that  expressed  in  the 
afore-mentioned  New  York  Gazette,  when  A 
Modern  Catechism  (May  23,  1778)  pronounced 
the  instigators  of  the  Revolution  to  be  ' '  an  un 
principled  and  a  disappointed  faction  in  the 
mother  country  and  an  infernal,  dark-design 
ing  group  of  men  in  America  audaciously 
styling  themselves  a  Congress,  .  .  .  obscure, 
pettifogging  attorneys,  bankrupt  shop-keepers, 
outlawed  smugglers,  .  .  .  wretched  banditti, 
.  .  .  the  refuse  and  dregs  of  mankind.''  As 
the  war  progressed,  however,  the  "  dregs  of 
mankind  "  became  bolder  and  bolder  in  their 
sarcasm,  while  the  blue-blooded  satirists  feared 
more  and  more  to  speak,  until,  as  the  day  for 
the  last  scene  at  Yorktown  approached,  the 
Yankee  humorists  laughed  alone  and  heard  no 
mocking  echo. 


IV 


YANKEE  DOODLE 

It  is  plain  that  of  humorous  verse,  or,  rather, 
humorous  doggerel,  there  was  no  lack.  It  is 
very  good  proof  of  the  abiding  sense  of  humor 
in  the  American  people  that  in  those  troubled 
and  positively  dangerous  days  they  were  able 
to  see  and  enjoy  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  war 
fare.  Not  infrequently  they  seized  upon  the 
very  satires  of  the  enemy  and  hurled  them 
back  in  his  teeth.  Yankee  Doodle,  for  in 
stance,  has  for  itself  just  such  a  history.  The 
tune  of  this  popular  ballad  is  older  than  most 
of  the  existing  nations.  In  the  twelfth  cen 
tury  it  was  used  as  a  chant  in  Catholic  churches 
of  Italy,  and  when  played  slowly  doubtless 
served  very  well  as  a  sacred  air.  But  the 
melody  was  too  easily  learned  to  remain  in 
such  a  limited  service,  and  after  1200  we  find 
it  gradually  working  its  way  into  the  daily  life 
of  the  ordinary  peasant.  It  became  a  most 

114 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

popular  vintage  song  in  Spain  and  southern 
France;  reached  northward  into  Holland, 
where,  as  a  reaper 's  song,  it  acquired  the  words 
"  Yanker  dudel,  doodle  down  ";  and  at  length 
entered  England,  where,  before  the  reign  of 
Charles  I,  it  was  a  widely  known  nursery; 
rhyme  with  the  words: 

"  Lucky  Locket  lost  her  pocket, 
Kitty  Fisher  found  it — 
Nothing  in  it,  nothing  on  it, 
But  the  binding  round  it." 

In  the  days  of  the  Puritan  rule  the  Cavaliers 
wrote  a  song  in  ridicule  of  Cromwell,  who,  it 
is  said,  once  rode  into  Oxford,  mounted  on  a 
small  Kentish  horse  and  with  his  small  plume 
tied  into  a  knot: 

"  Yankee  doodle  came  to  town 

Upon  a  Kentish  pony; 
He  stuck  a  feather  in  his  cap 
And  called  Mm  macaroni." 

"  Macaroni/'  it  should  be  remembered,  was  a 
term  frequently  applied  to  London  dudes. 

Thus  the  song  had  served  in  many  capacities 
when  Dr.  Eichard  Shuckburg,  a  surgeon  in  the 

115 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

British  army,  seeing  the  raw  New  England  rus 
tics  gazing  in  open-mouthed  wonder  at  the  Eng 
lish  cannons  and  soldiers,  suddenly  conceived 
the  idea  of  writing  new  words  to  the  old  tune 
to  apply  to  the  patriots.  Many  lines  of  the 
poem  easily  betray  its  origin: 

"  And  there  we  see  a  thousand  men, 

As  rich  as  Squire  David; 
And  what  they  wasted  ev'ry  day, 
I  wish  it  could  be  saved. 


And  there  I  see  a  swamping  gun, 
Large  as  a  log  of  maple, 

Upon  a  deuced  little  cart, 
A  load  for  father's  cattle. 

And  every  time  they  shoot  it  off, 
It  takes  a  horn  of  powder, 

And  makes  a  noise  like  father's  gun 
Only  a  nation  louder. 

I  went  as  nigh  to  one  myself 
As  'Siah's  underpinning; 

And  father  went  as  nigh  again, 
I  thought  the  deuce  was  in  him. 

116 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


' '  And  there  was  Cap  'n  Washington, 

And  gentlefolks  about  him; 
They  say  he 's  grown  so  'tarnal  proud 
He  will  not  ride  without  'em. 

"  He's  got  him  on  his  meeting  clothes, 
Upon  a  slapping  stallion ; 
He  set  the  world  along  in  rows, 
In  hundreds  and  in  millions. ' ' 

But  lie  laughs  best  who  laughs  last.  The 
colonists  liked  the  song,  sang  it  as  their  own, 
and  later,  as  they  shot  down  the  retreating 
British  from  behind  walls  and  trees,  they 
whistled  it  with  such  mocking  vim  that  Corn- 
wallis  is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  to 
God  I  shall  never  hear  that  damned  tune 
again!  " 

Many  a  derisive  ballad  was  composed  by  the 
rude  bards  of  the  camp  and  roared  forth 
around  the  evening  fire.  Such  a  one  was  The 
Battle  of  King's  Mountain  (1781): 

' '  'Twas  on  a  pleasant  mountain 

The  Tory  heathen  lay, — 
With  a  doughty  major  at  their  head, 
One  Ferguson,  they  say. 
117 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Cornwallis  had  detached  him, 

A-thieving  for  to  go, 
And  catch  the  Carolina  men, 

Or  bring  the  rebels  low." 


TAXATION  OF  AMERICA 

As  shown  in  previous  paragraphs,  these  rude 
camp-songs  were  accompanied  by  a  continuous 
stream  of  newspaper  verse.  Some  of  this  we 
have  noted;  room  for  one  or  two  more  speci 
mens  may  perhaps  be  spared.  It  was  in  1778 
that  a  certain  Peter  St.  John  of  Connecticut 
wrote  a  long  ballad  entitled  Taxation  of  Amer 
ica — a  poem  that  pleased  the  colonists  not  only 
by  its  ideas  but  by  its  swinging  rhythm  and  a 
refrain  in  the  last  line  that  gave  it  a  devil-may- 
care  air  quite  irresistible : 

"  While  I  relate  my  story, 
Americans  give  ear; 
Of  Britain's  fading  glory 

You  presently  shall  hear; 
I'll  give  a  true  relation, 
Attend  to  what  I  say 
Concerning  the  taxation 
Of  North  America. 
118 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  There  are  two  mighty  speakers, 

Who  rule  in  Parliament, 
Who  ever  have  been  seeking 

Some  mischief  to  invent; 
'Twas  North  and  Bate,  his  father, 

The  horrid  plan  did  lay 
A  mighty  tax  to  gather 

In  North  America. 

"  They  searched  the  gloomy  regions 

Of  the  infernal  pit, 
To  find  among  their  legions, 

One  who  excelled  in  wit ; 
To  ask  of  him  assistance, 

Or  tell  them  how  they  may 
Subdue  without  resistance 

This  North  America. 

"  Old  Satan  the  arch-traitor, 

Who  rules  the  burning  lake, 
Where  his  chief  navigator 

Resolved  a  voyage  to  take; 
For  the  Britannic  ocean 

He  launches  far  away, 
To  land  he  had  no  notion 

In  North  America. 

"  He  takes  his  seat  in  Britain, 

It  was  his  soul's  intent 
Great  George's  throne  to  sit  on, 
And  rule  the  Parliament; 
119 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

His  comrades  were  pursuing 

A  diabolic  way, 
For  to  complete  the  ruin, 

Of  North  America. " 

Thus  the  poet  continued,  doubtless  to  the 
great  delight  of  the  uncritical  colonists  and  to 
the  great  disgust  of  the  British  litterateurs  in 
the  invading  army. 

FATE_OF  JOHN  BURGOYNE 

We  have  seen  with  what  scorn  the  early  fail 
ures  of  the  English  generals  were  received.  As 
the  war  progressed  and  these  leaders  displayed 
no  special  brilliancy  in  the  art  of  war,  the  scorn 
of  the  Yankees  deepened,  and  a  source  of  de 
light  to  all  editors  was  poetry  ridiculing  these 
blundering  soldiers.  The  Fate  of  John 
Burgoyne  is  a  typical  example: 

"  When  Jack,  the  king's  commander, 

Was  going  to  his  duty, 
Through  all  the  crowd  he  smiled  and  bowed 
To  every  blooming  beauty. 

"  To  Hampton  Court  he  first  repairs 
To  kiss  great  George's  hand,  sirs; 
Then  to  harangue  on  state  affairs 
Before  he  left  the  land,  sirs. 
120 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  The  '  Lower  House  '  sate  mute  as  mouse 

To  hear  his  great  oration; 
And  '  all  the  peers,'  with  loudest  cheers, 
Proclaimed  him  to  the  nation. 

"  With  great  parade  his  march  he  made 

To  gain  his  wished-for  station, 
While  far  and  wide  his  minions  hied 
To  spread  his  '  Proclamation.7 

"  But  ah,  the  cruel  fates  of  war! 
This  boasted  son  of  Britain, 
When  mounting  his  triumphal  car, 
With  sudden   fear  was  smitten. 

"  The  sons  of  freedom  gathered  round, 

His  hostile  bands  confounded, 
And  when  they'd  fain  have  turned  their  back 
They  found  themselves  surrounded! 

"  In  vain  they  fought,  in  vain  they  fled; 

Their  chief  humane  and  tender, 
To  save  the  rest  soon  thought  it  best 
His  forces  to  surrender. "  f  ,  , 

THE  DANCE 

All  this  must  have  been  extremely  amusing 
to    Burgoyne, — doubtless    it    "  tickled  "    him 

almost  as  much  as  another  song  of  the  day, 

121 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  Dance  (1781),  did  Cornwallis,— that  is  if 
either  one  stopped  long  enough  to  read.  How 
ever,  the  old  saying  declares  that  "  he  who 
runs  may  read/'  and  according  to  this  poem 
Cornwallis  at  least  must  have  been  a  very  fast 
reader. 

11  Cornwallis  led  a  country  dance, 

The  like  was  never  seen,  sir, 
Much  retrograde  and  much  advance, 
And  all  with  General  Greene,  sir. 

"  They  rambled  up  and  rambled  down, 

Joined  hands,  then  off  they  run,  sir, 
Our  General  Greene  to  Charlestown, 
The  earl  to  Wilmington,  sir. 

11  Greene  in  the  South  then  danced  a  set, 

And  got  a  mighty  name,  sir, 
Cornwallis  jigged  with  young  Fayette, 
But  suffered  in  his  fame,  sir. 

"  Quoth  he,  my  guards  are  weary  grown 

With  footing  country  dances, 
They  never  at  St.  James's  shone 
At  capers,  kicks  or  prances. 

"  Though  men  so  gallant  ne'er  were  seen, 

While  sauntering  on  parade,  sir, 
Or  wriggling  o'er  the  park's  smooth  green, 
Or  at  a  masquerade,  sir, 
122 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Yet  are  red  heels  and  long-laced  skirts 

For  stumps  and  briars  meet,  sir  ? 
Or  stand  they  chance  with  hunting  shirts, 
Or  hardy  veteran  feet,  sir? 

"  His  music  soon  forgets  to  play — 
His  feet  can  no  more  move,  sir, 
And  all  his  bands  now  curse  the  day 
They  jigged  to  our  shore,  sir. 

"  Now,  Tories  all,  what  can  ye  say? 

Come — is  not  this  a  griper, 
That  while  your  hopes  are  danced  away, 
'Tis  you  must  pay  the  piper?  " 

Many,  many  are  the  specimens  which  might 
be  presented;  but  will  not  these  suffice  to  show 
that  those  years  of  warfare  were  not  such 
dreary  times  after  all?  While  the  rough- 
voiced  regimentals  shouted  their  rude  ballads 
through  the  tented  streets,  the  friends  at  home 
battered  the  enemy  with  a  broad  but  none  the 
less  effective  satire.  The  effect  of  a  taunt  on 
a  discouraged  foe  is  not  to  be  belittled,  and,  for 
aught  we  know,  the  scornful  jokes  of  the 
colonial  wits  may  have  done  a  part  in  putting 
the  red-coats  to  flight  not  yet  sufficiently  recog 
nized  in  our  histories  of  the  momentous  period. 

123 


V 


As  has  been  intimated,  much  of  the  Revolu 
tionary  wit  and  humor  was  anonymous;  here 
and  there,  however,  among  the  musty  news 
papers  and  rudely  printed  pamphlets  we  meet 
with  a  familiar  name.  On  the  Tory  side  the 
leaders  in  the  merry  battle  were  undoubtedly 
Jonathan  Odell  and  Joseph  Stansbury,  while 
the  champions  of  satire  for  the  patriots  were 
just  as  undoubtedly  Francis  Hopkinson,  Philip 
Freneau,  and  the  popular  member  of  the  sar 
castic  group  known  as  the  "  Hartford  Wits," 
John  Trumbull.  At  times  these  men  gave 
Laughter  good  cause  for  "  holding  both  his 
sides/'  while  their  particular  victim  of  the 
moment  must  doubtless  have  felt,  as  Artemus 
Ward  said  Jefferson  Davis  did,  that  "  it  would 
have  been  worth  ten  dollars  in  his  pocket  if  he 
had  never  been  born. "  For  in  those  early  days 
men  spared  not  one  another;  they  hit  hard  and 

124 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

no  sense  of  refinement  withheld  them  from  bit 
ter  and  even  vulgar  personalities. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  two  men 
more  unlike  in  their  natures  than  the  two  Loy 
alists,  Jonathan  Odell,  the  fiery,  and  Joseph 
Stansbury,  the  gentle.  Both  loved  England 
with  a  jealous  love;  but  the  one  hated  her  ene 
mies  forever,  the  other  forgave  them  freely. 
Odell  thundered  with  a  malignant  scowl; 
Stansbury  sang  with  an  amused  simile. 

JONATHAN  ODELL 

The  first  of  these,  Jonathan  Odell,  was  born 
at  Newark,  New  Jersey,  in  1737.  His  ances 
tors  had  been  in  America  for  more  than  one 
hundred  years;  according  to  our  view,  there 
fore,  he  should  have  had  better  taste  than  to 
be  a  Tory.  After  graduating  from  the  College 
of  New  Jersey  (Princeton)  in  1754,  he  studied 
medicine,  became  a  surgeon  in  the  British 
army,  and  for  some  time  served  in  the  West 
Indies.  At  length  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  more  important  to  improve  men's 
souls  than  to  cure  their  bodies,  and,  conse 
quently,  in  1767,  he  became  rector  of  St.  Mary's 
parish  at  Burlington,  New  Jersey.  He  was 

125 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

always  a  zealous  worker  in  any  movement  that 
gained  his  sympathy,  and  he  soon  had  the  repu 
tation  of  being  a  godly  and  fearless  man. 

Like  his  fellow  Tory,  Stansbury,  he  was  with 
the  colonists  in  their  efforts  to  have  oppressive 
measures  repealed;  but,  as  a  preacher  and  as 
a  Loyalist,  he  was  opposed  to  violence, — espe 
cially  violence  toward  England.  Yet,  up  to  the 
time  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  he  took  no 
part  in  the  hot  debates  of  the  day.  He  had  his 
opinions,  nevertheless,  vigorous,  stubborn  opin 
ions  too,  and  they  soon  got  him  into  trouble. 
In  October,  1775,  two  letters  of  his  were  opened 
by  suspicious  committeemen,  and  certain  Tory 
expressions  in  these  missives  caused  his  arrest. 
Boldly  he  declared  his  neutrality.  "I  pre 
sumed  it  reasonable  in  me,"  he  said  in  after 
years,  "to  expect  I  should  be  indulged  in  the 
unmolested  enjoyment  of  my  private  sentiments 
so  long  as  I  did  not  attempt  to  influence  the 
sentiments  or  conduct  of  other  men." 

But  Odell  did  not  long  live  up  to  this  theory. 
June  4,  1776,  was  King  George's  birthday. 
The  loyal  preacher  wrote  a  song  on  the  happy 
occasion,  and  a  number  of  British  captives  in 
the  neighborhood,  meeting  for  a  banquet  on  an 
island  in  the  Delaware  Eiver,  roared  forth 

126 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

with  great  enthusiasm  this  poetical  tribute  to 
their  ruler.  On  July  20  Odell  was  adjudged  a 
dangerous  person  and  was  immediately  com 
pelled  to  sign  a  pledge  that  he  would  remain 
"within  a  circle  of  eight  miles  from  the  court 
house  of  the  city  of  Burlington."  In  Decem 
ber,  1776,  the  town  was  shelled  to  keep  the  Hes 
sians  away,  and  Odell  very  prudently  fled,  hid 
for  some  time  in  the  home  of  a  Quakeress,  and 
at  length  escaped  to  New  York  City,  where  he 
received  a  warm  welcome.  An  experienced 
soldier,  a  physician,  a  clergyman,  a  scholar,  a 
wit,  and  a  good  fellow  besides,  he  was  heartily 
received  in  every  circle  of  the  city's  social  life. 
But  not  a  word  of  satire  yet.  Three  years 
passed, — three  years  of  valuable  service  to  the 
British;  but  even  then  he  refused  to  say  to  the 
patriot:  "Thou  fool." 

In  the  preface,  however,  to  one  of  the  satires 
which  finally  did  burst  from  him,  he  expressed 
this  sentiment:  "The  masters  of  reason  have 
decided  that  when  doctrines  and  practices  have 
been  fairly  examined  and  proved  to  be  contrary 
to  truth  and  injurious  to  society,  then  and  not 
before  may  ridicule  be  lawfully  employed  in  the 
service  of  virtue."  The  doctrines  and  prac 
tices  of  the  patriots  had  now  been  fairly  exam- 

127 


AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


ined;  he  could  stand  the  strain  no  longer;  his 
time  for  a  deliverance  had  come.  In  Septem 
ber,  1779,  he  opened  up  his  batteries.  The 
first  shot  was  The  Word  of  Congress;  in  No 
vember  came  the  second  and  the  third,  The  Con 
gratulation  and  The  Feu  de  Joi,  and  in  Decem 
ber  the  fourth  and  last,  The  American  Times. 
No  gentleness  here.  Hot  wrath  rings  through 
them  all.  Bitter  scorn  —  too  bitter  for  hearty 
laughter  —  poisons  their  every  line.  They  re 
mind  one  of  Pope's  keen  thrusts;  and  indeed 
they  are  largely  modelled  after  that  satirist's 
masterpieces.  The  people,  Odell  declares,  have 
been  poisoned  by  a  deceptive  drink,  a  cup  filled 
with  so-called  liberty.  And  who  made  this 
drink? 

"  What  group  of  wizards  next  salutes  my  eyes  — 
United  comrades,   quadruple)  allies? 
Bostonian  Cooper,  with  his  Hancock  joined, 
Adams  with  Adams,  one  in  heart  and  mind. 
Sprung  from  the  soil  where  witches  swarmed  of 

yore, 
They  come  well  skilled  in  necromantic  lore; 

See!  the  smoke  rises  from  the  cursed  drench, 
And  poisons  all  the  air  with  horrid  stench. 
128 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Celestial  muse,  I  fear  'twill  make  thee  hot 
To  count  the  vile  ingredients  of  the  pot ; 
Dire  incantations,  words  of  death,  they  mix 
With  noxious  plants,  and  water  from  the  Styx; 
Treason's  rank  flowers,  Ambition's  swelling  fruits, 
Hypocrisy  in  seeds,  and  Fraud  in  roots, 
Bundles  of  Lies  fresh  gathered  in  their  prime, 
And  stalks  of  Calumny  grown  stale  with  time ; 
Handfuls  of  Zeal's  intoxicating  leaves, 
Riot  in  bunches,  Cruelty  in  sheaves, 
Slices  of  Cunning  cut  exceeding  thin, 
Kernels  of  Malice,  rotten  core  of  Sin, 
Branches  of  Persecutors,  boughs  of  Thrall, 
And  sprigs  of  Persecution,  dipt  in  Gall. "... 

Democracy!  How  the  word  nauseates  him! 
A  foul  being,  he  declares,  and  a  dangerous 
one, — a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  What  names 
shall  lie  apply  to  the  creature?  "  Bless  me!  " 
he  exclaims  in  The  American  Times, 

"  Bless  me!  what  formidable  figure's  this 
That  interrupts  my  words  with  saucy  hiss? 
She  seems  at  least  a  woman  by  her  face, 
With  harlot  smiles  adorned  and  winning  grace. 
A  glittering  gorget  on  her  breast  she  wears ; 
The  shining  silver  two  inscriptions  bears: 
*  Servant  of  Servants/  in  a  laurel  wreath, 
But  '  Lord  of  Lords  '  is  written  underneath. 


129 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

This  is  Democracy — the  case  is  plain; 
She  comes  attended  by  a  motley  train; 
Addresses  to  the  people  some  unfold; 
Rods,  scourges,  fetters,  axes,  others  hold; 
The  sorceress  waves  her  magic  wand  about, 
And  models  at  her  will  the  rabble  rout ; 
Here  Violence  puts  on  a  close  disguise, 
And  Public  Spirit's  character  belies. 
The  dress  of  Policy  see  Cunning  steal, 
And  Persecution  wear  the  coat  of  Zeal; 
Hypocrisy  Religion's  garb  assume, 
Fraud  Virtue  strip,  and  figure  in  her  room; 
"With  other  changes  tedious  to  relate, 
All  emblematic  of  our  present  state." 

We  might  fill  a  volume  with  the  pretty 
things  that  have  been  said  about  Democracy. 
We  might  quote  from  Thomas  Jefferson  to 
Thomas  Watson,  and  when  we  were  through  we 
might  well  conclude  that  "  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world "  is  not  Love,  but — Democracy. 
But,  shouts  Odell,  see  the  results  of  Democracy ! 
The  plebians  have  arisen;  the  world  is  turned 
upside  down. 

"  From  the  back  woods  half  savages  came  down, 
And  awkward  troops  paraded  every  town. 
Committees  and  conventions  met  by  scores; 
130 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Justice  was  banished,  Law  turned  out  of  doors ; 

Disorder  seemed  to  overset  the  land ; 

They  who  appeared  to  rule,  the  tumult  fanned. ' ' 

And  behold  the  statesmenship  of  the  new 
regime!  How  self-possessed!  What  dignity! 
What  state-craft! 

"  There  Folly  runs  with  eagerness  about, 
And  prompts  the  cheated  populace  to  shout ; 
Here  paper-dollars  meagre  Famine  holds, 
There  votes  of  Congress  Tyranny  unfolds; 

Confusion  blows  her  trump — and  far  and  wide 
The  noise  is  heard — the  plough  is  laid  aside ; 
The  awl,  the  needle,  and  the  shuttle  drops; 
Tools  change  to  swords,  and  camps  succeed  to  shops ; 

From  garrets,  cellars,  rushing  through  the  street, 
The  new-born  statesmen  in  committees  meet; 
Legions  of  senators  infest  the  land, 
And  mushroom  generals  thick  as  mushrooms  stand. ' ' 

By  this  time  we  evidently  have  grasped  the 
idea  that  Odell  was  dreadfully  in  earnest.  His 
Tory  heart  mnst  have  been  sadly  wrung  at 
times.  No  chance  for  improvement,  he  de 
clares;  the  case  is  quite  hopeless.  Why,  the 
very  soil  sprouts  fools;  i.  e.,  patriots. 

131 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

* '  Was  Samuel  Adams  to  become  a  ghost, 
Another  Adams  would  assume  his  post; 
Was  bustling  Hancock  numbered  with  the  dead, 
Another  full  as  wise  might  raise  his  head. 

Or  what  if  Washington  should  close  his  scene, 

Could  none  succeed  him? — Is  there  not  a  Greene? 

Knave  after  knave  as  easy  we  could  join, 

As  new  emissions  of  the  paper  coin. 

When  it  became  the  high  United  States 

To  send  their  envoys  to  Versailles'  proud  gates, 

Were  not  three  ministers  produced  at  once  ? 

Delicious  group,  fanatic,  deist,  dunce ! 

And  what  if  Lee,  and  what  if  Silas  fell, 

Or  what  if  Franklin  should  go  down  to  hell, 

Why  should  we  grieve? — the  land  'tis  understood 

Can  furnish  hundreds  equally  as  good." 

Do  not  forget  for  a  moment  that  onr  scorn 
ful  friend  was  a  clergyman — so  conscientious  a 
clergyman,  in  fact,  that  he  could  not  see  how 
any  self-respecting  parson  could  preach  to  such 
miserable  creatures  as  the  patriots.  Evidently 
he  had  forgotten  the  "  lost  sheep  "  doctrine  of 
Christianity.  Now,  one  of  the  fieriest  patriotic 
preachers  of  the  day  was  George  Duffield,  for 
some  time  chaplain  of  the  Continental  Con 
gress.  Odell  was  heartily  ashamed  of  the  fel 
low  ;  he  said  so  in  unmistakable  terms : 

132 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  A  saint  of  old,  as  learned  monks  have  said, 

Preached  to  the  fish — the  fish  his  voice  obeyed, 
The  same  good  man  convened  the  grunting  herd — 
Who  bowed  obedient  to  his  pow'rful  word. 
Such  energy  has  truth  in  days  of  yore ; 
Falsehood  and  nonsense,  in  our  days,  have  more. 
Duffield  avows  them  to  be  all  in  all, 
And  mounts  or  quits  the  pulpit,  at  their  call. 

Chaplain  of  Congress  give  him  to  become, 
Light  may  be  dark,  and  oracles  be  dumb, 
It  pleased  Saint  Anthony  to  preach  to  brutes — 
To  preach  to  devils  best  with  Duffield  suits!  " 

Vanity,  vanity,  saith  the  preacher;  all  in  van 
ity.  Thus  Odell  gazed  with  disgust  upon  the 
originators  of  all  this  confusion.  He  espied 
the  smirking,  splotched  face  of  Tom  Paine,  and 
the  parson 's  fury  descended  upon  that  bitter 
enemy  of  all  parsons.  See,  exclaimed  Odell, 
how  the  miscreants  work  together! 

"  Others  apart  in  some  obscure  recess, 
The  studied  lie  for  publication  dress: 
Prepare  the  vague  report,  fallacious  tale. 
Invent  fresh  calumnies,  revive  the  stale, 
Pervert  all  records  sacred  and  profane, — 
And  chief  among  them  stands  the  villain  Paine. 
This  scribbling  imp,  'tis  said,  from  London  came, 
That  seat  of  glory  intermixed  with  shame. 


133 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

What  cannot  ceaseless  impudence  produce? 
Old  Franklin  knows  its  value,  and  its  use : 
He  caught  at  Paine,  relieved  his  wretched  plight, 
And  gave  him  notes,  and  set  him  down  to  write. 
Fire  from  the  Doctor's  hints  the  miscreant  took, 
Discarded  truth,  and  soon  produced  a  book, — 
A  pamphlet  which,  without  the  least  pretence 
To  reason,  bore  the  name  of  *  Common  Sense.' 

Sense,  reason,  judgment  were  abashed  and  fled, 
And  Congress  reigned  triumphant  in  their  stead." 

At  this  distant  day  we  look  back  upon 
George  Washington  as  almost  a  god.  We  per 
haps  forget  that  the  scorn  of  the  blue-bloods 
and  the  sarcasm  of  the  town  wits  once  burnt 
into  his  soul  and  at  times  severely  shook  his 
self-possession.  Washington  was  a  very  "  hu 
man  "  being  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
jokers  doubtless  had  the  laugh  on  him  just  as 
frequently  as  on  any  other  personage  of  the 
day.  Odell  himself  left  his  gloves  at  home 
when  he  began  to  handle  the  General.  Now, 
cried  he, 

"  Strike  up,  hell's  music!   roar,  infernal  drums! 
Discharge  the  cannon!     Lo,  the  warrior  comes! 
He  comes,  not  tame  as  on  Ohio's  banks, 
134 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

But  rampant  at  the  head  of  ragged  ranks. 
Hunger  and  itch  are  with  him — Gates  and  Wayne ! 
And  all  the  lice  of  Egypt  in  his  train. 

Hear  thy  indictment,  Washington,  at  large ; 
Attend  and  listen  to  the  solemn  charge : 
Thou  hast  supported  an  atrocious  cause 
Against  thy  king,  thy  country,  and  the  laws; 
Committed  perjury,  encouraged  lies, 
Forced  conscience,  broken  the  most  sacred  ties; 
Myriads  of  wives  and  fathers  at  thy  hand 
Their  slaughtered  husbands,  slaughtered  sons,  de 
mand; 

Innumerable  crimes  on  thee  must  fall — 
For  thou  maintainest,  thou  defendest  all. 

Go,  wretched  author  of  thy  country's  grief, 
Patron  of  villainy,  of  villains  chief ; 
Seek  with  thy  cursed  crew  the  central  gloom, 
Ere  Truth's  avenging  sword  begin  thy  doom." 

Would  that  we  might  linger  over  more  of 
OdelPs  taunting  words.  The  objects  of  his  sar 
casm  have  long  since  gone  to  their  reward  and 
would  not  mind  the  further  repetition  of  his 
lines.  My  readers  might,  however; — and  men 
fear  the  living  rather  than  the  dead.  All  that 
has  been  said  simply  goes  to  show  that  times 

135 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

were  not  monotonous  in  the  days  of  the  Bevolu- 
tion,  and  that  people  laughed  now  and  then  in 
spite  of  Bunker  Hill  and  Valley  Forge.  Odell  's 
compliments  were  purposely  spread  far  and 
wide  by  the  Tory  element,  and  all  were  of  that 
sweet  flavor  found  above  in  his  views  of  Tom 
Paine  or  George  Washington  or  of  that  par 
ticular  enemy  of  his,  General  Charles  Lee. 

"  Arise,  ye  Fiends,  from  dark  C'ocytus'  brink; 
Soot  all  my  paper,  sulphurize  my  ink ; 
So  with  my  theme  the  colors  shall  agree, 
Brimstone  and  black — the  livery  of  Lee." 

Such  lines,  however,  must  have  added  to  the 
laughter  of  the  patriots  as  well  as  of  the  Loy 
alists  ;  for  the  former,  with  the  tide  of  battle  in 
their  favor,  could  well  afford  to  enjoy  the  vexa 
tion  of  the  enemy. 

Like  some  old  Confederate  soldiers,  Odell 
was  never  "  reconstructed.''  Even  after  he 
had  fled  to  Nova  Scotia  and  was  leading  a  pros 
perous  life  there  he  never  missed  an  oppor 
tunity  to  curse  the  Americans  roundly,  and  to 
his  dying  day  he  always  had  some  pet  scheme 
up  his  sleeve  by  which  he  hoped  to  down  the 
Yankees  and  make  the  United  States  a  Paradise 
for  Loyalists. 

136 


VI 


JOSEPH  STANSBURY 


"  Though  ruined  so  deeply  no  angel  can  save, 
The  empire  dismembered,  our  king  made  a  slave, 
Still  loving,  revering,  we  shout  forth  honestly — 

God  save  the  king! 

Though  fated  to  banishment,  poverty,  death, 
Our  hearts  are  unaltered,  and  with  our  last  breath 
Loyal  to  George,  we'll  pray  most  fervently — 

Glory  and  joy  crown  the  king!  " 

Thus,  after  the  Tories  had  lost  their  all,  the 
other  leader  of  their  wits,  Joseph  Stansbury, 
sang  cheerily.  Gentle,  reasonable,  forgiving, 
he  was  a  more  lovable  though  less  effective  man 
than  his  friend  Odell.  He  was  born  in  London 
in  1740;  was  educated  at  St.  Paul's  School, 
where  he  showed  a  talent  for  literature;  and 
came  to  America  in  1769.  He  soon  entered 
business  life  at  Philadelphia,  and,  because  of 
his  social  qualities,  especially  his  ability  to  com 
pose  and  sing  songs  for  all  sorts  of  ceremonies, 
he  speedily  became  a  welcomed  member  of 
every  circle  in  the  city. 

137 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OP  COLONIAL  DAYS 

He  saw  with  keen  regret  the  tyrannical 
methods  pursued  by  his  native  country  and  his 
earlier  poems  show  him  to  have  been  in  sym 
pathy  with  the  colonial  strugglers.  He  could 
not  see,  however,  that  separation  and  independ 
ence  were  the  proper  remedies  for  the  distress ; 
consequently  in  1775  and  1776  we  find  him 
classed  among  the  hated  Tories.  Neverthe 
less,  during  the  latter  year  and  1777  he  con 
tinued  his  business  in  the  city,  where,  during 
the  British  occupation,  he  was  of  course  ex 
ceedingly  popular.  But  in  1778  he  deemed  it 
wise  to  withdraw  and  remain  with  the  British 
troops  in  New  York  City.  After  the  surrender 
he  removed  to  a  New  Jersey  village,  but  even 
there  he  found  no  peace ;  for,  as  a  Loyalist,  he 
was  soon  cast  into  prison  at  Burlington.  Upon 
his  promising  to  leave  the  State  within  nine 
days,  he  was  allowed  to  remove  in  August, 
1783,  to  Nova  Scotia,  where  in  lonely  exile  he 
remained  until  the  autumn  of  1785.  The  sepa 
ration  from  his  wife  and  children  became  un 
bearable  ;  he  returned  to  Philadelphia ;  he  had 
scarcely  entered  his  home  when  a  letter  tossed 
through  a  window,  warned  him  to  flee;  and 
once  more  he  was  a  forlorn  wanderer.  In 

138 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

1793,  however,  he  found  a  home  among  the 
more  liberal  people  of  New  York  City,  and 
there  he  died  in  1809. 

Such  was  the  unforgiving  bitterness  of  the 
Eevolutionary  times.  At  this  late  day  we  can 
see  that  this  gentle  Loyalist  did  not  deserve 
the  harsh  treatment  accorded  him.  Even  his 
wittiest  verses  have  little  of  animosity;  they 
are  more  of  smiles  than  of  sneers.  Until  1776 
he  said  scarcely  one  satirical  word  about  the 
patriots;  for  it  was  his  hope  that  war  could 
be  averted.  But  one  hot  day  in  that  year  an 
incident  so  attacked  his  risibility  that  he  could 
no  longer  stand  the  strain ;  and  the  poetry  came. 
A  certain  colonial  parson,  William  Piercy,  was 
preaching  a  fiery  sermon  to  the  Philadelphia 
militia,  and  had  placed  behind  himself  a  hid 
eously  ugly  negro,  who  with  unabating  zeal 
fanned  the  speaker.  The  next  morning  a 
stanza  by  Stansbury  was  flying  through  the 
streets : 

"  To  preach  up,  friend  Piercy,  at  this  critical  season 

Resistance  to  Britain  is  not  very  civil, 
Yet  what  can  we  look  for  but  faction  and  treason, 
From    a    flaming    enthusiast — fanned    by    the 
devil?  " 

139 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

From  this  time  forth  Stansbury  was  fre 
quently  called  upon  by  the  Loyalists  for  songs 
on  this  or  that  occasion.  Fortunately  for  him 
self  but  unfortunately  for  us,  he  burnt  a  great 
mass  of  his  papers  immediately  after  the  sur 
render  ;  but  from  what  remains  we  can  surmise 
that  he  must  have  caused  many  a  roar  of  laugh 
ter  in  the  old  days  of  Tory  festivity.  The 
year  1780,  however,  was  not  one  of  joy  for 
British  sympathizers.  That  very  year  the 
patriots  grew  so  bold  as  to  rush  within  the  bor 
ders  of  New  York  City,  steal  a  quantity  of  hay, 
and  set  several  houses  on  fire.  Stansbury,  dis 
gusted  with  the  procrastination  of  the  British 
leader,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  turned  his  sarcasm 
upon  this  amusement-loving  soldier, — one  form 
of  amusement  which  Clinton  is  said  not  to  have 
relished : 

11  i  Has  the  Marquis  La  Fayette 
Taken  off  all  our  hay  yet?  ' 
Says  Clinton  to  the  wise  heads  around  him: 

'  Yes,  faith,  Sir  Harry, 

Each  stack  he  did  carry, 
And  likewise  the  cattle — confound  him! 

"  '  Besides,  he  now  goes, 
Just  under  your  nose, 
To  burn  all  the  houses  to  cinder!  ' 
140 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

*  If  that  be  his  project, 
It  is  not  an  object 
Worth  a  great  man's  attempting  to  hinder. 

"  *  For  forage  and  house 

I  care  not  a  louse; 
For  revenge,  let  the  Loyalists  bellow; 

I  swear  I'll  not  do  more 

To  keep  them  in  humor, 
Than  play  on  my  violoncello. 

"  '  If  growlers  complain, 

I  inactive  remain — 
Will  do  nothing,  nor  let  any  others! 

'Tis  sure  no  new  thing 

To  serve  thus  our  king — 
Witness  Burgoyne,  and  two  famous  Brothers ! '  '  * 

Stansbury,  like  his  comrade,  Odell,  was  not 
easily  discouraged.  Even  when  Cornwallis 
surrendered,  the  witty  Loyalist  made  sturdy 
efforts  to  be  optimistic.  In  that  gloomy  day  he 
wrote  for  the  edification  of  the  frightened 
Tories  of  New  York  City  a  few  stanzas  of  en 
couragement  : 

"  I've  heard  in  old  times  that  a  sage  used  to  say, 
The  seasons  were  nothing,  December  or  May; 
The  heat  or  the  cold  never  entered  his  plan — 
That  all  should  be  happy  whenever  they  can. 


141 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  He  happened  to  enter  this  world  the  same  day 
With  the  supple,  complying,  famed  Vicar  of  Bray : 
Through  both  of  their  lives  the  same  principle  ran — 
My  boys,  we'll  be  happy  as  long  as  we  can. 

"  Time-serving  I  hate,  yet  I  see  no  good  reason 
A  leaf  from  their  book  shall  be  thought  out  of  sea 
son: 

When  kicked  like  a  football  from  Sheba  to  Dan — 
Egad,  let's  be  happy  as  long  as  we  can.  .  .  ." 

Before,  however,  there  was  ever  any  neces 
sity  for  such  a  song  of  encouragement,  while 
yet  the  British  were  enjoying  the  hospitality  of 
New  York  City,  and  every  Tory  foresaw  an 
early  and  an  easy  victory,  Stansbury  furnished 
many  a  pleasant  line  for  his  friends, — lines 
more  enjoyable  perhaps  because  lacking  all  the 
bitterness  of  those  by  the  other  satirist,  Odell. 
Those  were  gay  houses  in  the  city,  and  Stans 
bury  's  convivial  poems  added  much  to  the 
gaiety.  In  1781,  for  example,  he  wrote  for  a 
"  venison  dinner  at  Mr.  Bunyan's  ' '  a  rollicking 
song  containing  such  verses  as 

11  But  through  near  our  lines  they're  too  cautious  to 

tarry, 

What  courage  they  shew  when  a  hen-roost  they 
harry! 

142 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Who  can  wonder  that  poultry  and  oxen  and  swine 
Seek  shelter  in  York  from  such  valor  divine, — 
While  Washington's  jaws  and  the  Frenchman's  are 

aching 
The  spoil  they  have  lost,  to  be  boiling  and  baking. 

"  Let  Clinton  and  Arnold  bring  both  to  subjection, 
And  send  us  more  geese  here  to  seek  our  protection. 
Their  flesh  and  their  feathers  shall  meet  a  kind 

greeting; 

A  fat  rebel  turkey  is  excellent  eating, 
A  lamb  fat  as  butter  and  white  as  a  chicken — 
These  sorts  of  tame  rebels  are  excellent  pickin'. 

"  To-day  a  wild  rebel  has  smoked  on  the  table; 
You've  cut  him  and  sliced  him  as  long  as  you're 

able. 

He  bounded  like  Congo,*  and  bade  you  defiance, 
And  placed  on  his  running  his  greatest  reliance; 
But  fate  overtook  him  and  brought  him  before  ye, 
To  shew  how  rebellion  will  wind  up  her  story.  .  .  ." 

It  has  often  been  said  that  the  chief  differ 
ence  between  a  revolution  and  a  rebellion  is  that 
the  one  succeeds  and  the  other  does  not.  Just 
there  is  where  Stanshury  and  Odell  and  we  dis 
agreed.  They  looked  upon  us  as  rebels;  we 


*  Congo  was  a  Tory  nickname  for  the  Continental  Congress. 
143 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

considered  ourselves  revolutionists.  War  de 
cided  that  we  were  the  latter,  and  Stansbury 
quietly  acquiesced, — while  the  violent  Odell 
never  could  accept  the  decision.  It  was  the 
gentler  Loyalist,  exiled  as  he  was  from  family 
and  home,  who  wrote  the  lines  that  should  have 
gone  to  the  heart  of  Tory  and  patriot  alike : 

"  Now  this  war  at  length  is  o'er, 
Let  us  think  of  it  no  more; 
Every  party  lie  or  name, 
Cancel  as  our  mutual  shame ; 
Bid  each  wound  of  faction  close — 
Blushing  we  were  ever  foes." 


VII 


Of  course,  for  a  time,  the  Tories  considered 
the  American  Revolution  a  huge  joke.  Not  so 
to  many  of  the  colonial  fathers.  Indeed,  some 
fun-makers  were  sorely  needed  by  several  of 
those  solemn-faced  founders  of  our  nation.  To 
them  life  was  a  little  too  earnest;  they  took 
themselves  perhaps  a  trifle  too  seriously.  Only 
a  few  of  these  greater  men  dared  to  risk  their 
reputation  for  solidness  by  joking  openly  when 
ever  they  felt  like  it ;  and  naturally  these  choice 
spirits  stand  out  conspicuously  because  of  their 
very  loneliness.  Among  the  common  folk 
there  was,  of  course,  much  rough  humor  and 
satire;  but  we  speak  now  of  the  moulders  of 
the  Commonwealth.  Of  those  conspicuous  for 
their  audacity  in  being  funny  in  public  one  of 
the  most  daring  in  his  defiance  toward  the  an 
cient  idea  that  all  great  people  must  be  solemn 
was  Francis  Hopkinson. 

10  145 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 
FRANCIS  HOPKINSON 

John  Adams,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Adams, 
speaks  of  him  as  "  a  painter  and  a  poet. "  "  He 
is,"  continues  that  grave  statesman,  "one  of 
your  pretty,  little,  curious,  ingenious  gentle 
men.  .  .  .  His  head  is  not  bigger  than  a  large 
apple."  Yet,  even  Adams,  who  was  amused 
to  see  such  a  specimen  of  dainty  manhood,  con 
fessed  that  he  was  a  gentleman  of  merit.  And 
Hopkinson  was  more  than  that.  Says  Moses 
Coit  Tyler,  in  his  Literary  History  of  the 
American  Revolution:  "  He  was  a  distin 
guished  practitioner  of  the  law;  he  became  an 
eminent  judge ;  he  was  a  statesman  trained  by 
much  study  and  experience;  he  was  a  mathe 
matician,  a  chemist,  a  physicist,  a  mechanician, 
an  inventor,  a  musician,  and  a  composer  of 
music,  a  man  of  literary  knowledge  and  prac 
tice,  a  writer  of  airy  and  dainty  songs,  a  clever 
artist  with  pencil  and  brush,  and  a  humorist 
of  unmistakable  power."  And  with  it  all  was 
a  kindness  of  heart  that  made  him  a  friend  of 
every  creature — even  a  Tory !  The  timid  doves 
waited  for  him  daily  in  his  yard,  and,  as  he  ap 
proached  them,  flew  to  meet  him,  and  perched 

146 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

upon  his  shoulders  and  head.  A  little  mouse 
came  regularly  at  meal  time  and  played  un- 
afrighted  about  his  feet.  All  men  loved  him — 
all  except  the  Tories  and  the  British,  and  of 
course  they  didn't  count,  in  his  estimation. 

Born  in  Philadelphia  in  1737,  Hopkinson  was 
left  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  fourteen.  He  was 
educated  at  the  College  of  Philadelphia,  after 
wards  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was 
a  member  of  the  first  graduating  class  in  1757. 
Three  years  later  he  received  the  degree  of 
Master  of  Arts.  In  1761  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar,  and  very  soon  gained  a  reputation  for 
high  legal  ability.  That  at  this  early  date  he 
had  gained  the  confidence  of  the  leading  offi 
cials  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  in  the  same 
year,  1761,  he  was  chosen  secretary  of  the 
conference  between  Pennsylvania  and  the 
Indians, — a  conference,  by  the  way,  which  gave 
him  the  idea  for  his  once  famous  poem,  The 
Treaty.  In  1766  he  went  to  England,  remained 
fourteen  months,  and  returned  with  an  amount 
of  information  and  culture  that  proved  he  had 
kept  his  eyes  exceedingly  wide  open.  Some  of 
the  great  men  of  the  day  evidently  thought  so 
too;  for  in  1772,  on  the  recommendation  of 

147 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Lord  North,  he  was  appointed  collector  of  cus 
toms  at  Newcastle,  New  Jersey,  and  in  1774 
was  made  a  member  of  the  council  of  that 
colony.  In  the  meantime  he  had  married  a 
granddaughter  of  the  founder  of  B  or  dent  own, 
New  Jersey,  and  of  course  henceforth  his  main 
interests  were  in  that  little  commonwealth. 

After  all  the  favors  he  had  received  from  the 
British  government,  he  might  well  have  been 
expected  to  become  a  Tory.  But  he  loved 
America  better  than  position,  and  from  the 
moment  that  serious  trouble  began  to  brew,  he 
was  always  present  at  the  brewing.  In  1776 
he  was  the  representative  of  New  Jersey  in  the 
Continental  Congress,  was  a  signer  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  served  on  numer 
ous  committees,  and  was  ever  wielding  a  most 
facile  pen  (or  quill,  shall  we  say?)  in  behalf  of 
the  new  nation ;  while  among  the  literary  works 
of  his  busy  brain  in  those  heated  days  were 
The  Pretty  Story  (1774),  The  Prophecy 
(1776),  The  Political  Catechism  (1777),  and  a 
host  of  sharp  letters,  sarcastic  essays,  and 
satirical  poems. 

His  reward  came  with  the  success  of  the 
colonies.  From  1779  until  1789  he  was  judge 
of  the  admiralty  for  Pennsylvania,  was  ap- 

148 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

pointed  United  States  district  judge  for  the 
same  State  in  1790,  and  was  ever  considered  by 
the  greatest  officials  a  man  worthy  of  consulta 
tion  and  attention.  Full  of  years  and  honor, 
he  died  in  Philadelphia  in  1791.  Shortly  after 
his  death,  his  works  were  issued  under  the 
title,  The  Miscellaneous  Essays  and  Occasional 
Writings  of  Francis  Hopkinson. 

The  average  reader  of  to-day  knows  Francis 
Hopkinson  through  one  piece,  The  Battle  of  the 
Kegs.  And,  if  he  had  written  nothing  else,  he 
is  worthy  of  remembrance  for  that  sly  bit  of 
sarcasm.  Undoubtedly  it  was  the  most  popular 
ballad  written  in  Eevolutionary  days.  It  was 
copied  in  every  colony ;  it  was  recited  at  social 
functions;  and  public  speakers,  when  wishing 
to  have  the  laugh  on  the  British,  quoted  stanzas 
from  it.  The  incident  which  caused  the  poem 
was  laughable  in  itself,  and  Hopkinson  meas 
ured  up  to  his  opportunity.  Kegs  charged  with 
powder  were  floated  down  the  river  to  destroy 
the  British  fleet  lying  before  Philadelphia,  with 
the  result  that  the  English  soldiers  spent  the 
day  bravely  shooting  kegs!  It  must  have  been 
galling  to  Tories  to  read  in  New  York  and  Phil 
adelphia  and  Boston  papers  such  lines  as  these : 


149 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Gallants  attend  and  hear  a  friend 

Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty, 
Strange  things  I  '11  tell  which  late  befell 
In  Philadelphia  city. 

"  'Twas  early  day,  as  poets  say, 
Just  when  the  sun  was  rising, 
A  soldier  stood  on  a  log  of  wood 
And  saw  a  thing  surprising. 

"  As  in  amaze  he  stood  to  gaze, 

The  truth  can't  be  denied,  sir, 
He  spied  a  score  of  kegs  or  more 
Come  floating  down  the  tide,  sir. 

"  Now  up  and  down  throughout  the  town, 

Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted; 
And  some  ran  here  and  others  there, 
Like  men  almost  distracted. 

"  '  Arise!  Arise!  '  Sir  Erskine  cries, 

'  The  rebels — more's  the  pity, 
Without  a  boat  are  all  afloat, 
And  ranged  before  the  city. 

"  '  The  motley  crew,  in  vessels  new, 
With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir, 
Packed  up  in  bags  or  wooden  kegs, 
Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 
150 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

'  Therefore  prepare  for  bloody,  war, 
These  kegs  must  all  be  routed, 

Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 
And  British  courage  doubted.' 

The  royal  band  now  ready  stand 

All  ranged  in  dread  array,  sir, 
With  stomach  stout  to  see  it  out, 

And  make  a  bloody  day,  sir. 

The  cannons  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 

The  small  arms  make  a  rattle; 
Since  war  began  I'm  sure  no  man 

E  'er  saw  so  strange  a  battle. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attacked  from  every  quarter; 
Why  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil's  to  pay 

'Mongst  folks  above  the  water! 

The  kegs,  'tis  said,  though  strongly  made, 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 
Could  not  oppose  their  powerful  foes, 

The  conquering  British  troops,  sir. 
»   .        .        .        ,        . 

A  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen, 

Or  more  upon  my  word,  sir, 
It  is  most  true  would  be  too  few, 

Their  valor  to  record,  sir. 
151 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

11  Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day 

Against  those  wicked  kegs,  sir, 
That  years  to  come  if  they  get  home, 
They'll  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  sir!  " 

Is  it  not  plain  that  there  is  really  no  bitter 
ness  here?  It  is  characteristic  of  Hopkinson. 
Always  more  amused  than  angered,  he  simply 
had  a  good-humored  laugh  over  the  follies  of 
his  opponents.  Evidently  he  kept  in  mind  the 
words  of  his  contemporary  Eobert  Burns — 

"  O  wad  some  Pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us!  " — 

and  did  his  utmost  to  help  the  Tories  and 
British  in  their  efforts  along  this  line.  Yet,  it 
was  not  lack  of  serious  principle  that  caused 
him  to  assume  this  good-natured  levity.  There 
were  times  when  Hopkinson  did  not  mince 
words.  Hear  his  expressions  in  a  letter  to 
Joseph  Galloway,  a  man  who  had  proved  him 
self  a  hypocrite: 

"  Now  that  you  have  gained  the  summit  of  your 
ambitious  hopes,  the  reward  of  your  forfeited  honor, 
that  dear-bought  gratification,  to  obtain  which  you 
have  given  your  name  to  infamy  and  your  soul  to  per- 

152 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

dition — now  that  you  sit  in  Philadelphia,  the  nominal 
governor  of  Pennsylvania,  give  me  leave  to  address  a 
few  words  of  truth  to  your  corrupted  heart.  Retire 
for  a  moment  from  the  avocations  and  honors  of  your 
new  superintendency,  and  review  the  steps  by  which 
you  have  mounted  the  stage  of  power — steps  reeking 
with  the  blood  of  your  innocent  country. 

"  When  the  storm  was  gathering  dark  and  dreary 
over  this  devoted  country,  when  America  stood  in 
need  of  all  the  exertions  which  her  best  patriots  and 
most  confidential  citizens  could  make,  you  stepped  for 
ward — you  offered  yourself  a  candidate,  and,  with 
unwearied  diligence,  solicited  a  seat  in  the  American 
Congress.  Your  seeming  sincerity  and  your  loud  com 
plaints  against  the  unjust  usurpations  of  the  British 
legislature  gained  the  confidence  of  your  country. 
You  were  elected;  you  took  your  seat  in  Congress — 
and  let  posterity  remember  that  while  you  were 
vehemently  declaiming  in  that  venerable  senate  against 
British  tyranny,  and  with  hypocritical  zeal  urging  a 
noble  stand  in  behalf  of  the  liberties  of  your  country, 
you  were  at  the  same  time  betraying  their  secrets, 
ridiculing  their  economy,  and  making  sport  of  their 
conduct.  .  .  . 

"  The  temporary  reward  of  iniquity  you  now  hold 
will  soon  shirk  from  your  grasp.  .  .  .  This  you  know, 
and  the  reflection  must  even  now  throw  a  gloom  of 
horror  over  your  enjoyments,  which  the  glittering  tin 
sel  of  your  new  superintendency  cannot  illumine. 
Look  back,  and  all  is  guilt — look  forward,  and  all  is 

153 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

dread !  When  the  history  of  the  present  time  shall  be 
recorded,  the  names  of  Galloway  and  Cunningham 
will  not  be  omitted ;  and  posterity  will  wonder  at  the 
extreme  obduracy  of  which  the  human  heart  is  capa 
ble,  and  at  the  unmeasurable  difference  between  a 
traitor  and  a  Washington. " 

If  further  proof  were  needed  that  this  dainty- 
looking,  art-loving  gentleman  could  on  occa 
sion  wield  a  sarcastic  pen  dipped  in  fluid  bit 
terness,  we  might  well  turn  to  his  Letter  Writ 
ten  by  a  Foreigner  on  His  Travels,  in  which 
he  causes  his  "  foreigner  "  to  say  concerning 
England : 

"  The  extreme  ignorance  of  the  common  people  of 
this  civilized  country  can  scarce  be  credited.  In  gen 
eral  they  know  nothing  beyond  the  particular  branch 
of  business  which  their  parents  or  the  parish  hap 
pened  to  choose  for  them.  This,  indeed,  they  practise 
with  unremitting  diligence,  but  never  think  of  extend 
ing  their  knowledge  farther. 

"  A  manufacturer  has  been  brought  up  a  maker 
of  pin-heads.  He  has  been  at  this  business  forty  years 
and,  of  course,  makes  pin-heads  with  great  dexterity; 
but  he  cannot  make  a  whole  pin  to  save  his  life.  He 
thinks  it  is  the  perfection  of  human  nature  to  make 
pin-heads.  He  leaves  other  matters  to  inferior  abili 
ties.  It  is  enough  for  him  that  he  believes  in  the 
Athanasian  Creed,  reverences  the  splendor  of  the  court, 

154 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

and  makes  pin-heads.  This  he  conceives  to  be  the 
sum-total  of  religion,  politics,  and  trade.  He  is  sure 
that  London  is  the  finest  city  in  the  world;  Black- 
friars  Bridge  the  most  superb  of  all  possible  bridges; 
and  the  river  Thames  the  largest  river  in  the  universe. 
It  is  in  vain  to  tell  him  that  there  are  many  rivers  in 
America,  in  comparison  of  which  the  Thames  is  but 
a  ditch;  that  there  are  single  provinces  there  larger 
than  all  England;  and  that  the  colonies  .  .  .  are 
vastly  more  extensive  than  England,  Wales,  Scotland 
and  Ireland,  taken  all  together — he  cannot  conceive 
this.  He  goes  into  his  best  parlor,  and  looks  on  a  map 
of  England,  four  feet  square ;  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room  he  sees  a  map  of  North  and  South  America,  not 
more  than  two  feet  square,  and  exclaims:  '  How  can 
these  things  be!  It  is  altogether  impossible!  '  .  .  . 
Talk  to  him  of  the  British  constitution,  he  will  tell 
you  it  is  a  glorious  constitution;  ask  him  what  it  is, 
and  he  is  ignorant  of  its  first  principles;  but  he  is 
sure  that  he  can  make  and  sell  pin-heads  under 
it.  .  .  ." 

This,  however,  was  not  the  usual  Francis 
Hopkinson.  He  preferred  not  to  hiss,  but  to 
laugh  his  opponent  out  of  court.  If  ever  you 
enter  one  of  the  greater  libraries  of  our  coun 
try,  ask  for  his  Pretty  Story  (printed  the  very 
day  the  first  Continental  Congress  met),  and 
enjoy  some  very  gentle  yet  very  real  humor. 

155 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

You  will  find  it  to  be  a  lively  little  allegory 
telling  the  story  of  the  disturbance  between 
the  mother  country  and  the  colonies  down  to  the 
year  1774.  England  is  represented  by  the  Old 
Farm,  America  by  the  New,  while  the  Noble 
man  is  the  King,  and  his  Wife  is  Parliament. 
A  few  bits  from  it,  to  show  its  flavor : 

11  Once  upon  a  time,  a  great  while  ago,  there  lived 
a  certain  Nobleman,  who  had  long  possessed  a  very 
valuable  Farm,  and  had  a  great  number  of  children 
and  grand-children.  Besides  the  annual  profits  of  his 
land,  which,  were  very  considerable,  he  kept  a  large 
shop  of  goods ;  and  being  very  successful  in  trade,  he 
became,  in  process  of  time,  exceeding  rich  and  power 
ful,  insomuch  that  all  his  neighbors  feared  and  re 
spected  him.  .  .  .  Now,  it  came  to  pass  that  this  No 
bleman  had,  by  some  means  or  other,  obtained  a  right 
to  an  immense  tract  of  wild  uncultivated  country  at 
a  vast  distance  from  his  mansion  house.  But  he  set 
little  store  by  this  acquisition,  as  it  yielded  him  no 
profit ;  nor  was  it  likely  to  do  so,  being  not  only  diffi 
cult  of  access  on  account  of  the  distance,  but  was  also 
overrun  with  innumerable  wild  beasts  very  fierce  and 
savage, — so  that  it  would  be  extremely  dangerous  to 
attempt  taking  possession  of  it. 

1 '  In  process  of  time,  however,  some  of  his  children, 
more  stout  and  enterprising  than  the  rest,  requested 
leave  of  their  Father  to  go  and  settle  on  this  distant 

156 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

tract  of  land."  [Then  follows  a  list  of  the  rules  laid 
down  by  the  king  for  the  conduct  of  the  settlers  and 
the  promises  made  by  him.  The  new  land  showed  pros 
pects  of  becoming  an  earthly  Paradise;  but  at  length 
troubles  began  to  come,  as  in  every  Paradise.  The 
Nobleman 's  Wife  began  to  cast  envious  looks  towards 
the  new  home,  and  after  a  time  issued  an  edict]  ' '  set 
ting  forth  that  whereas  the  tailors  of  her  family  were 
greatly  injured  by  the  people  of  the  New  Farm,  inas 
much  as  they  presumed  to  make  their  own  clothes, 
whereby  the  said  tailors  were  deprived  of  the  benefit 
of  their  custom,  it  was  therefore  ordained  that  for  the 
future  the  new  settlers  should  not  be  permitted  to  have 
amongst  them  any  shears  or  scissors  larger  than  a  cer 
tain  fixed  size.  In  consequence  of  this,  our  advent 
urers  were  compelled  to  have  their  clothes  made  by 
their  Father's  tailors;  but  out  of  regard  to  the  old 
Gentleman,  they  patiently  submitted  to  this  griev 
ance.  .  .  .  She  [the  Wife]  persuaded  her  Husband 
to  send  amongst  them,  from  time  to  time,  a  number 
of  the  most  lazy  and  useless  of  her  servants,  under  the 
specious  pretext  of  defending  them  in  their  settle 
ments  and  of  assisting  to  destroy  the  wild  beasts,  but 
in  fact,  to  rid  his  own  house  of  their  company,  not 
having  employment  for  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  be  a  watch  and  a  check  upon  the  people  of  the  New 
Farm." 

The  story  then  declares  that  the  Nobleman's 
Steward  had  debauched  the  Nobleman's  Wife 

157 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

and  had  persuaded  her  to  wear  two  padlocks 
on  her  lips  so  that  when  he  opened  one  she 
could  cry  only  "  No,"  and  when  the  other,  only 
"  Yes."  The  Steward  then  persuaded  the 
Nobleman,  who  was  now  in  his  dotage,  to  place 
a  heavy  tax  on  several  articles  to  be  bought 
only  at  his  shop,  notably  Water-Gruel  [tea]. 
But  the  settlers  would  have  none  of  it,  and 
allowed  the  gruel  to  sour  by  the  roadside. 
And  "  one  of  the  new  settlers,  whose  name  was 
Jack  [Boston],  either  from  a  keener  sense  of 
the  injuries  attempted  against  him,  or  from  the 
necessity  of  his  situation,  which  was  such  that 
he  could  not  send  back  the  Gruel  because  of  a 
number  of  mercenaries  whom  his  Father  had 
stationed  before  his  house  to  watch  and  be  a 
check  upon  his  conduct, — he,  I  say,  being  almost 
driven  to  despair,  fell  to  work  and  with  great 
zeal  stove  to  pieces  the  casks  of  Gruel  which 
had  been  sent  him  and  utterly  demolished  the 
whole  cargo.  .  .  .  The  old  Gentleman  fell  into 
great  wrath,  declaring  that  his  absent  children 
meant  to  throw  off  all  dependence  upon  him, 
and  to  become  altogether  disobedient.  His 
Wife  also  tore  the  padlocks  from  her  lips,  and 
raved  and  stormed  like  a  Billingsgate.  The 

158 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Steward  lost  all  patience  and  moderation, 
swearing  most  profanely  that  he  would  leave 
no  stone  unturned  until  he  had  humbled  the  set 
tlers  of  the  New  Farm  at  his  feet,  and  caused 
their  Father  to  trample  on  their  necks.  More 
over,  the  Gruel  Merchants  roared  and  bellowed 
for  the  loss  of  their  Gruel;  and  the  clerks  and 
apprentices  were  in  the  utmost  consternation 
lest  the  people  of  the  New  Farm  should  again 
agree  to  have  no  dealings  with  their  Father's 
shop."  Immediately  an  immense  padlock  was 
fastened  upon  Jack's  gate,  and  an  overseer  was 
sent  to  Jack's  home  to  "  break  his  spirit." 

Jack  appealed  to  his  neighbors  for  supplies, 
and  "  seasonable  bounty  was  handed  to  Jack 
over  the  garden  wall,  all  access  to  the  front 
of  his  house  being  shut  up."  Moreover,  Jack's 
Family  held  consultations  about  the  matter; 
but  the  Overseer  "  wrote  a  thundering  prohi 
bition,  much  like  a  Pope's  Bull,  which  he 
caused  to  be  pasted  up  in  every  room  in  the 
house ;  in  which  he  declared  and  protested  that 
these  meetings  were  treasonable,  traitorous, 
and  rebellious,  contrary  to  the  dignity  of  their 
Father  and  inconsistent  with  the  omnipotence 
of  their  Mother-in-Law ;  denouncing  also  terri- 

159 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

ble  punishments  against  any  two  of  the  Family 
who  should  from  thenceforth  be  seen  whisper 
ing  together,  and  strictly  forbidding  the  domes 
tics  to  hold  any  more  meetings  in  the  garret  or 
stable. 

"  These  harsh  and  unconstitutional  proceed 
ings  irritated  Jack  and  the  other  inhabitants  of 
the  New  Farm  to  such  a  degree  that  .  .  . 

Caetera  desunt  " 

Hopkinson  refuses  to  prophesy  what  will 
happen ;  he  leaves  it  to  the  gentlemen  who  were 
just  then  assembling  in  the  hall  of  Congress  not 
far  from  the  book-stall  where  the  Pretty  Story 
was  being  exhibited. 

If  you  will  look  into  the  story  for  yourself, 
you  will  see  how  well  sustained,  how  interesting 
at  all  points,  how  full  of  bright  surprises  the 
genial  narrative  is.  There  is  a  flavor  of  French 
vivacity  and  French  simplicity  about  it  that 
charms  one.  We  should  not  be  surprised,  there 
fore,  to  find  that  this  man  wrote  some  of  the 
daintiest  lyrics  of  early  days — in  some  in 
stances,  exquisite  little  things  that  might  well 
be  revived  and  made  popular  through  musical 
setting. 

160 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

But  the  times  were  rather  adverse  toward 
love-lyrics  and  nature  poems,  and  Hopkinson's 
talent  was  turned  to  the  more  immediately  use 
ful  field  of  satirical  verse.  There  were  during 
those  dangerous  days,  undoubtedly,  numerous 
fickle  creatures — "  the  summer  soldier  and  the 
sunshine  patriot,"  as  Tom  Paine 's  Crisis  called 
them — men  who  were  valiant  patriots  when  the 
Americans  held  the  city  and  zealous  Tories 
when  the  British  came  to  town ;  and  just  such  a 
sharp  pen  as  Hopkinson's  was  needed  for  such 
people.  The  neat  fable.  The  Birds,  tlie  Beasts, 
and  the  Bat,  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  his  opinion 
of  such  turn-coats. 

"  A  war  broke  out  in  former  days — 
If  all  is  true  that  ^sop  says — 
Between  the  birds  that  haunt  the  grove 
And  beasts  that  wild  in  forests  rove. 

From  every  tribe  vast  numbers  came 
To  fight  for  freedom,  as  for  fame. 

The  bat — half  bird,  half  beast — was  there, 
Nor  would  for  this  or  that  declare, — 
Waiting  till  conquest  should  decide 
Which  was  the  strongest,  safest  side. 
..•••••• 

11  161 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  birds  in  fierce  assault,  'tis  said, 
Amongst  the  foe  such  havoc  made — 
That,  panic-struck,  the  beasts  retreat 
Amazed,  and  victory  seemed  complete. 
The  observant  bat,  with  squeaking  tone, 
Cried,  '  Bravo,  Birds!     The  day's  our  own; 
For  now  I  am  proud  to  claim  a  place 
Amongst  your  bold  aspiring  race.' 

"  But  now  the  beasts,  ashamed  of  flight, 
With  rallied  force  renew  the  fight ; 

Enraged,  advance — push  on  the  fray 
And  claim  the  honors  of  the  day. 
The  bat,  still  hovering  to  and  fro, 
Observed  how  things  were  like  to  go. 

1  Push  on/  quoth  he,  '  Our's  is  the  day! 
We'll  chase  these  rebel  birds  away, 
And  reign  supreme — for  who  but  we 
Of  earth  and  air  the  lords  should  be?  ' 

"  Now  in  their  turn  the  beasts  must  yield 
The  bloody  laurels  of  the  field. 

' '  Once  more  the  bat  with  courtly  voice, 
'  Hail,  noble  birds !    Much  I  rejoice 
In  your  success  and  come  to  claim 
My  share  of  conquest  and  of  fame.' 
162 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

The  birds  the  faithless  wretch  despise : 
1  Hence,  traitor,  hence!  '  the  eagle  cries; 
*  No  more,  as  you  just  vengeance  fear, 
Amongst  our  honored  ranks  appear/ 
The  bat,  disowned,  in  some  old  shed 
Now  seeks  to  hide  his  exiled  head; 
Nor  dares  his  leathern  wings  display 
From  rising  morn  to  setting  day." 

It  was  true.  Many  a  Tory,  in  the  end,  felt 
inclined  "  in  some  old  shed  ...  to  hide  his 
exiled  head/'  And  to  good-natured  Hopkin- 
son  their  futile  efforts  to  destroy  patriotism 
before  that  fatal  day,  were  just  as  laughable 
as  their  final  predicament.  This  scene  of  the 
Loyalist  wits'  venting  their  spleen  upon  the 
unmoved  structure  of  American  liberty  re 
minded  him  very  much  of  a  wasp  endeavoring 
to  sting  a  church-steeple!  Hear  some  lines 
from  his  fable,  The  Wasp: 

"  Wrapt  in  Aurelian  filth  and  slime, 

An  infant  wasp  neglected  lay; 
Till  having  dosed  the  destined  time, 
He  woke  and  struggled  into  day. 

"  '  In  copious  streams  my  spleen  shall  flow, 

And  satire  all  her  purses  drain ; 
A  critic  born,  the  world  shall  know 
I  carry  not  a  sting  in  vain.' 
163 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  This  said,  from  native  cell  of  clay, 

Elate  he  rose  in  airy  flight; 
Thence  to  the  city  changed  his  way, 
And  on  a  steeple  chanced  to  light. 

"  *  Ye  gods !  '  he  cried,  '  what  horrid  pile 

Presumes  to  rear  his  head  so  high? 
This  clumsy  cornice — see  how  vile: 
Can  this  delight  a  critic's  eye?  ' 

"  With  poisonous  sting  he  strove  to  wound 
The  substance  firm,  but  strove  in  vain ; 
Surprised  he  sees  it  stands  its  ground, 
Nor  starts  through  fear,  nor  writhes  with  pain. 

"  Away  the  enraged  insect  flew; 

But  soon  with  aggravated  power, 
Against  the  walls  his  body  threw 
And  hoped  to  shake  the  lofty  tower. 

"  Firm  fixed  it  stands,  as  stand  it  must, 
Nor  heeds  the  wasp 's  unpitied  fall : 
The  humbled  critic  rolls  in  dust, 
So  stunned,  so  bruised,  he  scarce  can  crawl. " 

Is  it  not  clear  how  genuinely  useful  such  a 
man  was  in  those  discouraging  times?  Many 
of  the  colonial  leaders  seemed  instinctively  to 
look  to  Francis  Hopkinson  whenever  any  fac- 

164 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

tion  or  individual  became  too  prominent  in  hos 
tility,  and  Hopkinson  seldom  failed  to  squelch 
the  troublesome  party.  How  skilfully,  for  ex 
ample,  he  checked  that  malicious  enemy  of  in 
dependence,  Provost  Smith  of  the  College  of 
Philadelphia.  The  provost  was  writing  in  the 
Pennsylvania  Gazette  his  dangerous  Letters  of 
Cato  to  the  People  of  Pennsylvania.  The  peo 
ple  were  more  than  interested — they  were 
aroused;  for  the  papers  were  strong  in  argu 
ment  and  forceful  in  style.  An  answer  was 
needed  and  that  right  early.  Hopkinson  came  to 
the  rescue  with  A  Prophecy.  An  ancient  seer 
had  a  vision  of  what  would  occur,  and  did  occur, 
in  Philadelphia  in  1776,  and  Hopkinson,  it 
seems,  interviewed  the  seer.  It  turned  the  laugh 
on  the  college  president.  After  speaking  of  a 
tree  sent  over  by  the  king  of  certain  islands — a 
tree  which  proved  exceedingly  rotten  at  the 
core,  the  narration  states  that  a  proposal  was 
made  by  a  prophet  (Dr.  Franklin),  to  cut  it 
down. 

' '  And  the  people  shall  hearken  to  the  voice  of  their 
prophet,  for  his  sayings  shall  be  good  in  their  eyes. 
And  they  shall  take  up  every  man  his  spade  and  his 
axe,  and  shall  prepare  to  dig  up  and  cut  away  the 

165 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

shattered  remains  of  the  blasted  and  rotten  tree,  ac 
cording  to  the  words  of  their  prophet. 

"  Then  a  certain  wise  man  shall  arise  and  shall 
call  himself  Cato ;  and  he  shall  strive  to  persuade  the 
people  to  put  their  trust  in  the  rotten  tree  and  not  to 
dig  it  up  or  remove  it  from  its  place.  And  he  shall 
harangue  with  great  vehemence,  and  shall  tell  them 
that  a  rotten  tree  is  better  than  a  sound  one;  and 
that  it  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  people  that  the  North 
wind  should  blow  upon  it,  and  that  the  branches 
thereof  should  be  broken  and  fall  upon  and  crush 
them. 

'  *  And  he  shall  receive  from  the  king  of  the  islands 
fetters  of  gold  and  chains  of  silver ;  and  he  shall  have 
hopes  of  great  reward  if  he  will  fasten  them  on  the 
necks  of  the  people,  and  chain  them  to  the  trunk  of 
the  rotten  tree.  .  .  .  And  he  shall  tell  the  people  that 
they  are  not  fetters  and  chains,  but  shall  be  as  brace 
lets  of  gold  on  their  wrists,  and  rings  of  silver  on  their 
necks  to  ornament  and  decorate  them  and  their  chil 
dren.  And  his  words  shall  be  sweet  in  the  mouth, 
but  very  bitter  in  the  belly. 


11  And  it  shall  come  to  pass  that  certain  other  wise 
men  shall  also  stand  up  and  oppose  themselves  to 
Cato;  and  shall  warn  the  people  not  to  trust  in  the 
allurements  of  his  voice,  nor  to  be  terrified  with  his 
threats,  and  to  hearken  to  his  puns  no  more.  .  .  . 
And  they  shall  earnestly  exhort  the  people  to  despise 

166 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

and  reject  the  fetters  of  gold  and  the  chains  of  silver 
which  the  king  of  the  islands  would  fasten  upon  them. 


"  And  in  process  of  time  the  people  shall  root  up 
the  rotten  tree,  and  in  its  place  they  shall  plant  a 
young  and  vigorous  tree,  and  shall  effectually  defend 
it  from  the  winds  of  the  North  by  an  high  wall.  .  .  . 
And  the  young  tree  shall  grow  and  flourish  and  spread 
its  branches  far  abroad;  and  the  people  shall  dwell 
under  the  shadow  of  its  branches,  and  shall  become 
an  exceedingly  great  and  powerful  and  happy  na 
tion.  ..." 

Hopkinson's  was  a  never  ceasing  pen  for  the 
American  cause.  We  have  touched  only  here 
and  there  in  his  works,  and  some  of  his  best 
efforts  must  be  left  unnoticed.  It  would  be 
pleasant  to  linger,  for  instance,  over  his  First 
Book  of  the  American  Chronicle  or  his  odd 
Specimens  of  a  Modern  Law  Suit,  wherein  a 
man  is  brought  to  trial  for  paring  his  nails  on 
Friday.  It  would  be  interesting,  too,  to  look 
over  his  mock  advertisement  of  the  Tory  editor, 
James  Eivington,  for  whom  circumstances  had 
"  rendered  it  convenient  ...  to  remove  to 
Europe."  Rivington  had,  for  immediate  sale, 
various  books,  maps,  and  patent  medicines, 

167 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

some  of  which,  according  to  Hopkinson,  were 
as  follows: 

"  The  History  of  the  American  War;  or  the  Glori 
ous  Exploits  of  the  British  Generals,  Gage,  Howe, 
Burgoyne,  Cornwallis,  and  Clinton." 

"  The  Right  of  Great  Britain  to  the  Dominion  of 
the  Sea — a  Poetical  Fiction. " 

"  The  State  of  Great  Britain  in  October,  1760,  and 
in  October,  1781,  compared  and  contrasted." 

"  Tears  of  Repentance :  or  the  Present  State  of  the 
Loyal  Refugees  in  New  York,  and  elsewhere." 

* '  The  Political  Liar :  a  Weekly  Paper,  published  by 
the  Subscriber  [Rivington],  bound  in  Volumes." 

"  The  Battle  of  Saratoga,  and  the  Surrender  at 
York:  Two  elegant  Prints,  cut  in  Copper,  and  dedi 
cated  to  the  King." 

"  Microscopes  for  magnifying  small  objects,  fur 
nished  with  a  select  set  ready  fitted  for  use.  Amongst 
these  are  a  variety  of  real  and  supposed  successes  of 
the  British  Generals  in  America. ' ' 

"  Pocket  Glasses  for  Short-sighted  Politicians." 

' '  Vivifying  Balsam :  excellent  for  weak  nerves, 
palpitation  of  the  heart,  over-bashfulness,  and  diffi 
dence.  In  great  demand  for  the  officers  of  the  army. ' ' 

"  Sp.  Men.  Or  the  genuine  Spirit  of  Lying.  Ex 
tracted  by  distillation  from  many  hundreds  of  *  The 
Royal  Gazette  of  New  York.'  " 

* l  Anodyne  Elixir,  for  quieting  fears  and  apprehen- 
168 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

sions.     Very   necessary   for   Tories   in   all   parts   of 
America.'' 

Few,  indeed,  were  the  men  who  served  the 
American  cause  better  than  this  '  i  pretty,  little, 
curious,  ingenious  gentleman,"  Francis  Hop- 
kinson.  When  he  picked  up  his  quill,  well 
might  the  Tories  lay  in  a  supply  of  "  Anodyne 
Elixir,  for  quieting  fears  and  apprehensions. ' ' 
For  to  his  task  Hopkinson  brought  as  keen  an 
intellect,  as  great  a  degree  of  culture,  and  as 
forceful  and  witty  a  style  as  could  be  found  in 
America,  and  his  opponents  often  feared  his 
good-humored  ridicule  far  more  than  the  vio 
lent  and  bitter  expressions  of  some  of  his  fel 
low  patriots. 


VIII 


PHILIP  FRENEAU 

Some  of  the  sweetest  and  most  delicate  verses 
in  the  earlier  literature  of  America  were  writ 
ten  by  a  man  whom  the  British  and  American 
Tories  of  colonial  days  considered  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  human  wasp.  The  wasp  was 
Philip  Freneau  (1752-1832).  We  of  to-day 
know  him  mainly  through  three  well-written 
bits  of  poetry,  Eutaw  Springs,  The  Indian 
Burying-Ground,  and  The  Wild  Honey-Suckle, 
and  these  three,  it  would  seem,  are  not  likely 
soon  to  be  omitted  from  any  thorough 
anthology  of  American  poetry.  Sir  Walter 
Scott  showed  his  admiration  for  Eutaw 
Springs  when  he  used  with  but  a  slight  change 
a  line  from  it  in  the  introduction  to  Canto  III. 
of  Marmion: 

"  And  took  the  spear,  but  left  the  shield. " 
170 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Campbell,  in  his  O'Connor's  Child,  used,  with 
out  any  acknowledgments  whatever,  the  beauti 
ful  idea  embodied  in  the  line  from  The  Indian 
Bury  ing -Ground: 

"  The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues, 

The  hunter  and  the  deer — a  shade.1' 

Again,  his  Death  Song  of  a  Cherokee  Indian 
was  stolen  almost  bodily  by  an  English  woman, 
Mrs.  Anna  Hunter,  and  was  praised  by  English 
critics  as  the  best  poem  in  a  collection  entitled 
Specimens  of  British  Poetesses. 

Freneau  was  a  born  poet  and  in  a  better  day 
undoubtedly  would  have  done  lasting  work. 
Like  Pope,  he  "  lisped  in  numbers,  for  the  num 
bers  came."  At  sixteen  he  wrote  a  long  and 
ambitious  poem,  The  Prophet  Jonah;  while  at 
seventeen,  he  had  the  audacity  to  compose  a 
dramatic  piece  in  blank  verse  on  so  vast  a  sub 
ject  as  The  Pyramids  of  Egypt.  And  portions 
of  this  juvenile  work  are  indeed  excellent. 
While  a  college  boy  of  eighteen  he  wrote  a  poem 
called  The  Power  of  Fancy;  and  who  would  deny 
it  an  originality,  a  freshness  of  treatment  rare 
indeed  in  that  period  of  the  eighteenth  cen 
tury? 

171 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

' l  Lo !  she  walks  upon  the  moon, 
Listens  to  the  ehiiny  tune 
Of  the  bright  harmonious  spheres, 
And  the  song  of  angels  hears ; 
Sees  this  earth  a  distant  star, 
Pendent,  floating  in  the  air; 
Leads  me  to  some  lonely  dome, 
Where  Religion  loves  to  come, 
Where  the  bride  of  Jesus  dwells, 
And  the  deep-toned  organ  swells 
In  notes  with  lofty  anthems  joined — 
Notes  that  half  distract  the  mind. 

"  Fancy,  thou  the  Muses'  pride, 
In  thy  painted  realms  reside 
Endless  images  of  things 
Fluttering  each  on  golden  wings. 

Fancy,  to  thy  power  I  owe 

Half  my  happiness  below; 

By  thee  Elysian  groves  were  made, 

Thine  were  the  notes  that  Orpheus  played; 

By  thee  was  Pluto  charmed  so  well 

While  rapture  seized  the  sons  of  hell; 

Come,  0  come,  perceived  by  none, 

You  and  I  will  walk  alone. " 

And  this  came,  remember,  before  Scott  and 
Wordsworth  had  revived  the  stiffened  Muse  of 

172 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  English  people.  With  this  freedom  from 
conventionalities,  there  was  in  the  man's  make 
up  something  of  that  daintiness  which  calls  to 
mind  the  Cavalier  singers  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  It  may  be  seen — and,  in  addition,  a 
genuine  love  of  nature — in  The  Wild  Honey - 
Suckle: 

"  Fair  flower,  that  dost  so  comely  grow, 

Hid  in  this  silent,  dull  retreat, 
Untouched  thy  honeyed  blossoms  blow, 

Unseen  thy  little  branches  greet : 
No  roving  foot  shall  find  thee  here, 

No  busy  hand  provoke  a  tear. 

"  From  morning  suns  and  evening  dews 

At  first  thy  little  being  came ; 
If  nothing  once,  you  nothing  lose, 

For  when  you  die  you  are  the  same ; 
The  space  between  is  but  an  hour, 

The  frail  duration  of  a  flower." 

The  same  daintiness,  with  not  a  few  happy 
little  conceits,  may  be  seen  in  The  Parting 
Glass,  A  Lady's  Singing  Bird,  On  the  Ruins 
of  a  Country  Inn,  and  To  a  Honey  Bee.  Some 
time,  when  you  are  in  a  sentimental  mood,  read 
these,  and  you  will  be  surprised  and  delighted 

173 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

at  their  delicacy.  As  we  see  the  bee  light  upon 
the  tippler's  glass  of  wine  and  drink,  there 
comes  with  the  half  sad,  half  humorous  senti 
ments  of  Freneau  an  echo  of  old  Omar  Khay 
yam  sitting  before  the  inn  door  of  long  ago. 

1 '  Welcome ! — I  hail  you  to  my  glass ; 

All  welcome  here  you  find; 
Here  let  the  cloud  of  trouble  pass, 
Here  be  all  care  resigned. 

This  fluid  never  fails  to  please, 
And  drown  the  grief  of  men  or  bees. '  ' 

And  the  bee  having  drowned  himself: 

1 '  Do  as  you  please,  your  will  is  mine ; 

Enjoy  it  without  fear, 
And  your  grave  will  be  this  glass  of  wine, 
Your  epitaph — a  tear. 

Go,  take  your  seat  in  Charon's  boat; 
We'll  tell  the  hive,  you  died  afloat." 

But  this  is  not  the  Freneau  that  we  are  to 
discuss.  His  was  "  an  age  employed  in  point 
ing  steel,"  as  he  himself  declared,  and  to  pierce 
the  enemy  of  his  country  with  the  pointed  steel 
was  the  chief  purpose  of  his  life, — a  purpose 
worth  more  in  his  estimation  than  all  the  fan- 

174 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

tastic  and  pretty  creations  of  his  poetic  nature. 
Perhaps,  if  some  brief  account  of  his  life  be 
given,  we  can  understand  better  the  reasons  for 
his  choice,  and  why  he  was  the  poet  of  hatred 
rather  than  of  love. 

Freneau  was  born  in  New  York  in  1752.  His 
ancestors  were  French  Protestant  refugees,  and 
all  his  family  had  been  cultivated,  serious 
minded,  and  versatile  people.  His  father,  who 
was  a  wine  merchant,  was  a  man  of  considerable 
means,  and  he  saw  to  it  that  the  boy  received 
a  broad  training.  Young  Freneau  graduated 
at  Princeton  in  1771,  and  at  that  youthful  age 
showed  his  fiery  patriotism  by  reciting  with 
another  young  fire-eater  and  humorist,  Hugh 
Brackenridge,  a  dialogue  entitled  The  Rising 
Glory  of  America. 

And  now  began  a  most  energetic  career. 
Journalist,  editor,  trader,  sea-captain,  govern 
ment  official,  farmer,  poet,  he  lived  the  "  stren 
uous  life  "  with  a  zeal  that  would  have  satisfied 
even  our  greatest  modern  advocate  of  this  form 
of  existence.  By  1775  he  had  gained  notoriety 
by  at  least  two  compositions,  A  Voyage  to  Bos 
ton  (1774)  and  General  Gage's  Confession 
(1775) — works  which  were  soon  to  be  followed 

175 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

by  a  consuming  flood  of  vitriolic  satires.  In 
1776  and  1780  he  made  voyages  to  the  West, 
Indies,  with  the  result  that,  having  been 
harassed  on  the  first  and  captured  on  the  second 
trip  and  thrust  into  a  British  prison-ship,  he 
gained  the  good  will  of  all  American  patriots 
by  writing  some  of  the  most  caustic  sarcasm 
ever  composed  in  any  language.  During  the 
war  many  of  his  contributions  appeared  in  the 
Philadelphia  Freeman's  Journal;  in  1790  he 
was  editor  of  the  New  York  Daily  Advertiser;, 
and  in  1791  he  took  charge  of  The  National 
Gazette  of  Philadelphia.  But  he  ever  had  a 
longing  for  the  ocean — he  shows  it  time  after 
time  in  his  poems — and  between  the  years  1798 
and  1812  he  was  back  in  the  old  sea-faring  life. 
After  1812,  he  lived  quietly  at  his  home  near 
Monmouth,  New  Jersey,  and  there  it  was  that 
he  lost  his  way  one  dark  wintry  night  and  was 
found  dead  in  the  snow. 

The  very  fact  that  a  man  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
one  would  attempt  to  walk  at  a  late  hour  of 
night  through  a  wild,  snow-covered  waste, 
shows  the  energy,  the  self-reliance,  the  un- 
dauntedness  of  his  nature.  Tyler,  in  his  Lit 
erary  History  of  the  American  Revolution, 
gives  a  pen-picture  of  him  at  this  age — a  de- 

176 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

scription  well  worth  repeating:  "  He  was  still 
a  fine  specimen  of  active  and  manly  old  age; 
in  person  somewhat  below  the  ordinary  height, 
but  muscular  and  compact;  his  face  pensive  in 
expression  and  with  a  care-worn  look ;  his  dark 
gray  eyes  sunken  deep  in  their  sockets,  but 
sending  out  gleams  and  flashes  of  fire  when 
aroused  in  'talk ;  his  hair  once  abundant  and 
beautiful  now  thinned  and  bleached  by  time; 
stooping  a  little  as  he  walked;  to  those  who 
knew  him,  accustomed  to  give  delight  by  a  con 
versation  abounding  in  anecdotes  of  the  great 
age  of  the  American  Kevolution. ' ' 

This,  then,  was  the  most  powerful  of  Revolu 
tionary  satirists,  the  most  vehemently  in  earn 
est,  the  most  unrelenting  in  his  hatred.  At 
times  he  could  be  playful;  but  it  was  the  play 
fulness  of  a  tiger.  Beneath  the  softness  were 
cruel  claws  and  a  merciless  heart.  Even  in  his 
mere  playing  they  were  not  wholly  concealed. 
Read  his  Crispin  O'Connor's  Answer  and  see 
why  the  Irishman  came  to  America : 

' '  In  British  land  what  snares  are  laid ! — 
There  royal  rights  all  right  defeat: 
They  taxed  my  sun,  they  taxed  my  shade, 

They  taxed  the  wretched  crumbs  I  eat; 
12  177 


WIT  AND  H'UMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

' '  They  taxed  my  hat,  they  taxed  my  shoes, 

Fresh  taxes  still  on  taxes  grew; 
They  would  have  taxed  my  very  nose, 
Had  I  not  fled,  dear  friends,  to  you !  ' ' 

Even  in  those  humorous  verses  not  dealing 
with  Bevolutionary  themes,  such  as  the  Song 
of  Tliyrsis  in  his  Female  Frailty,  your  senti 
ments  and  ideals  are  liable  to  get  scratched. 
Note  how  quickly  the  young  widow  recovers 
from  her  bereavement,  and  begins,  as  Freneau 
would  doubtless  have  said  in  our  own  days,  to 
'  '  sit  up  and  take  notice. ' ' 

"  The  turtle  on  yon  withered  bough, 
That  lately  mourned  her  murdered  mate, 
Has  found  another  comrade  now — 
Such  changes  all  await! 
Again  her  drooping  plume  is  drest, 
Again  she's  willing  to  be  blest, 
And  takes  her  lover  to  her  nest. 

"  If  nature  has  decreed  it  so 
With  all  above  and  all  below, 
Let  us,  like  them,  forget  our  woe, 
And  not  be  killed  with  sorrow. 
If  I  should  quit  your  arms  to-night 
And  chance  to  die  before  'twas  light, 
I  would  advise  you — and  you  might — • 
Love  again  to-morrow." 
178 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Even  in  a  playful  poem  on  the  wounding  of 
his  dog,  Sancho,  Freneau  cannot  resist  the 
temptation  to  give  a  thrust.  The  poet's  cabin 
had  been  attacked  by  robbers;  the  dog  had 
rushed  to  its  defence;  and  like  that  more 
famous  dog,  Bingo  of  the  college  song,  he  had 
soon  been  i '  cut  up  into  sausage-meat. ' ' 

"  The  world,  my  dear  Sancho,  is  full  of  distress, 
And  you  have  your  share,  I  allow  and  confess ; 
For  twice  with  a  musket,  and  now  a  cutteau — 
You  had  nearly  gone  off  to  dog-heaven  below. 

' '  Poor  fellow,  I  pity  your  pitiful  case ! 

In  fact  they  have  ruined  the  round  of  your  face ; 

And  die  when  you  will,  be  it  early  or  late, 

You  will  go  to  your  grave  with  a  scar  on  your  pate. 

"  If  ever  a  dog  be  permitted  to  pass 
Where  folks  I  could  mention  have  fixed  on  a  place, 
(But  which,  I  suspect,  they  will  hardly  attain 
While  rights  of  pre-emption  in  Satan  remain.) 

"  Good  Sancho  had  merit  to  put  in  his  plea, 
And  claim  with  the  claimants  a  portion  in  fee, 
On  the  ground  that  in  life  he  was  one  of  the  few 
"Who,  in  watching  and  barking,  were  trusty  and 
true." 

179 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

We  may  say,  however,  that  when  Freneau 
wrote  such  things  he  was  not  in  normal  condi 
tion.  His  temperature  was  entirely  too  low. 
Between  1775  and  1780  he  preferred  fever-heat, 
and  he  succeeded  very  easily  in  keeping  himself 
at  that  degree.  Well  might  he  exclaim : 

"  Rage  gives  me  wings,  and,  fearless,  prompts  me  on 
To  conquer  brutes  the  world  would  blush  to  own ; 
No  peace,  no  quarter,  to  such  imps  I  lend — 
Death  and  perdition  on  each  line  I  send." 

A  man  strong  in  his  likes  and  dislikes  and 
always  positive  in  his  opinions,  he  generally 
wrote  what  the  spirit  moved  him  to  write,  and 
the  spirit  was  never  a  hesitating  one.  In  1782, 
after  the  Americans  had  shown  King  George 
that  they  could  not  be  conquered,  Freneau  wrote 
his  Prophecy,  and  there  is  no  uncertainty  in 
the  prophetic  tones: 

"  When  a  certain  great  king,  whose  initial  is  G, 
Shall  force  stamps  upon  paper,  and  folks  to  drink 

tea; 
When  these  folks  burn  his  tea  and  stampt  paper, 

like  stubble, 

You  may  guess  that  this  king  is  then  coming  to 
trouble. 

180 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

But  when  a  petition  he  treads  under  his  feet, 
And  sends  over  the  ocean  an  army  and  fleet; 
When  that  army,  half -starved  and  frantic  with  rage, 
Shall   be   cooped   up   with   a  leader   whose   name 

rhymes  with  cage; 

"When  that  leader  goes  home  dejected  and  sad, 
You  may  then  be  assured  that  the  king's  prospects 

are  bad. 

But  when  B  and  C  with  their  armies  are  taken, 
This  king  will  do  well  if  he  saves  his  own  bacon. 
In  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  eighty  and  two 
A  stroke  he  shall  get  that  will  make  him  look  blue ; 
In  the  years  eighty-three,  eighty-four,  eighty-five 
You  hardly  shall  know  that  the  king  is  alive ; 
In  the  year  eighty-six  the  affair  will  be  over. 
And  he  shall  eat  turnips  that  grow  in  Hanover. 
The  face  of  the  Lion  shall  then  become  pale, 
He  shall  yield  fifteen  teeth  and  be  sheared  of  his 

tail. 

O  king,  my  dear  king,  you  shall  be  very  sore ; 
The  Stars  and  the  Lily  shall  run  you  on  shore, 
And  your  Lion  shall  growl — but  never  bite  more !  ' ! 

True,  part  of  this  prophecy  was  merely  a 
narrative  of  what  had  already  happened;  but 
if  Freneau  had  written  it  five  years  before  there 
would  have  been  not  a  whit  less  positiveness. 

It  was  in  1775  that  we  had  from  Freneau 
the  first  ferocious  outburst  of  patriotic  ire. 

181 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Among  the  poems  written  that  year  by  his  rest 
less  pen  are  such  bitter  satires  as  On  the  Con 
quest  of  America  Shut  Up  in  Boston,  General 
Gage's  Soliloquy,  The  Midnight  Consultations, 
Lib  era  Nos,  Domine,  and  Mac  Swig  gen — 
venomous  things  every  one,  especially  poison 
ous  to  Tories.  See  what  delight  is  his  when 
Gage  is  besieged  in  Boston  by  those  American 
"  peasants  "  whom  the  general  had  denounced 
and  sworn  to  hang: 

"  '  Rebels  you  are  ' — the  British  champion  cries — 
Truth,  stand  you  forth,  and  tell  Tom  Gage  he  lies ! 
'  Rebels !  ' — and  see,  this  mock  imperial  Lord 
Already  threats  those  '  rebels  '  with  the  cord ! 

"  The  hour  draws  nigh,  the  glass  is  almost  run, 
When  truth  must  shine  and  scoundrels  be  undone, 
When  this  base  miscreant  shall  forbear  to  sneer — 
And  curse  his  taunts  and  bitter  insults  here." 

After  reading  his  Midnight  Consultations,  we 
may  well  imagine  what  a  furore  it  made  among 
the  Tories  of  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Bos 
ton.  They  were  already  sorely  aggrieved  at 
the  stubbornness  of  these  plebeian  colonists  and 
the  lack  of  perseverance  in  the  character  of  the 
English  regulars;  and  Freneau's  satire  was 
acid  poured  upon  their  smarting  wounds.  The 

182 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

poem  tells  of  a  meeting  of  British  officers  at 
midnight  after  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  at 
which  meeting  confusion  and  anger  reigned. 
The  officers  were  trying  to  devise  a  plan  for 
holding  the  slippery  Americans: 

"  Twelve  was  the  hour — congenial  darkness  reigned, 
And  no  bright  star  a  mimic  daylight  feigned. 
First,  Gage  we  saw — a  crimson  chair  of  state 
Received  the  honor  of  his  Honor's  weight. 
This  man  of  straw  the  regal  purple  bound, 
But  dullness,  deepest  dullness,  hovered  round. 
Next  Graves,  who  wields  the  trident  of  the  brine, 
The  tall  arch-captain  of  the  embattled  line, 
All  gloomy  sate — mumbling  of  flame  and  fire, 
Balls,  cannons,  ships,  and  all  their  damned  attire; 
Well  pleased  to  live  in  never-ending  hum, 
But  empty  as  the  interior  of  his  drum. 
Hard  by,  Burgoyne  assumes  an  ample  space, 
And  seemed  to  meditate  with  studious  face, 

Is  he  to  conquer — he  subdue  our  land — 
This  buckram  hero,  with  his  lady's  hand? 
By  Caesars  to  be  vanquished  is  a  curse, 
But  by  a  scribbling  fop — by  heaven,  is  worse! 
Lord  Percy  seemed  to  snore — but  may  the  muse 
This  ill-timed  snoring  to  the  peer  excuse : 
Tired  was  the  long  boy  of  his  toilsome  day — 
Full  fifteen  miles  he  fled,  a  tedious  way. ' ' 
183 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Gage's  wrath  was  great.  Thrice  he  swore,  and 
cried : 

*  *  '  'Tis  nonsense  to  be  beat ! 
Thus  to  be  drubbed !    Pray,  warriors,  let  me  know 
Which  be  in  fault,  myself,  the  fates,  or  you! 
Hencefore  let  Britain  deem  her  men  mere  toys! 
Gods !  to  be  frighted  thus  by  country  boys. 
"Why,  if  our  army  had  a  mind  to  sup, 
They  might  have  eat  that  schoolboy  army  up ! 

You  have  the  knack,  Lord  Percy,  to  retreat ; 

The  death  you  'scaped  my  warmest  blood  congeals, 

Heaven  grant  me,  too,  so  swift  a  pair  of  heels !  '  " 

And  there  too  was  that  meagre — tearfully 
meagre — fare!  How  could  it  longer  be  borne 
by  a  high-born  British  officer?  "  Three 
weeks/'  cried  Gage, 

"  '  Three  weeks — ye  gods!  nay,  three  long  years  it 

seems, 

Since  roast  beef  I  have  touched,  except  in  dreams. 
In  sleep  choice  dishes  to  my  view  repair, — 
Waking  I  gaze  and  champ  the  empty  air. 
Say,  is  it  just  that  I,  who  rule  these  bands, 
Should  live  on  husks,  like  rakes  in  foreign  lands? — 
Come,  let  us  plan  some  project  ere  we  sleep, 
And  drink  destruction  to  the  rebel  sheep. 
184 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

On  neighboring  isles  uncounted  cattle  stray, 

Fat  beeves  and  swine — an  ill  defended  prey ; 

These  are  fit  victims  for  my  noonday  dish, 

These,  if  my  soldiers  act  as  I  would  wish, 

In  one  short  week  would  glad  your  maws  and  mine — 

On  mutton  we  will  sup,  on  roast  beef  dine !  ' 

Shouts  of  applause  re-echoed  through  the  hall, 

And  what  pleased  one  as  surely  pleased  them  all; 

Wallace  was  named  to  execute  the  plan, 

And  thus  sheep-stealing  pleased  them  to  a  man." 

Mention  has  been  made  of  another  sarcastic 
poem  of  Freneau's  written  in  1775 — his  Lib  era 
Nos,  Domine.  In  but  one  other  piece,  The 
Prison  Ship,  of  which  we  shall  hear  later,  is 
his  denunciation  more  biting,  his  nauseating 
disgust  more  apparent.  How  vividly  and  how 
vehemently  lie  sums  up  in  this  mock  litany  the 
woes  of  his  country  and  the  tyranny  of  Britain. 
Lord,  deliver  us,  he  cries, 

"  From  the  group  at  St.  James's  that  slight  our  peti 
tions, 

And  fools  that  are  waiting  for  further  submissions ; 
From  a  nation  whose  manners  are  rough  and  abrupt, 
From  scoundrels  and  rascals  whom  gold  can  cor 
rupt; 


185 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

11  From  the  valiant  Dunmore,  with  his  crew  of  ban 
ditti, 

Who  plunder  Virginians  at  Williamsburgh  city; 
From  hot-headed  Montague,  mighty  to  swear, 
The  little  fat  man  with  his  pretty  white  hair. 

"  From  Tyron  the  mighty,  who  flies  from  our  city, 
And  swelled  with  importance,  disdains  the  com 
mittee, — 

(But  since  he  is  pleased  to  proclaim  us  his  foes, 
What  the  devil  care  we  where  the  devil  he  goes) ; 

* '  From  the  scoundrel,  Lord  North,  who  would  bind  us 

in  chains, 
From  a  dunce  of  a  king  who  was  born  without 

brains, 

The  utmost  extent  of  whose  sense  is  to  see 
That  reigning  and  making  of  buttons  agree ; 

"  From  an  island  that  bullies  and  hectors  and  swears, 
I  send  up  to  heaven  my  wishes  and  prayers 
That  we,  disunited,  may  freemen  be  still, 
And  Britain  go  on — to  be  damned,  if  she  will!  " 

It  is  rather  surprising  to  find  that  this  hydro- 
phobic  fire-eater  joined  no  regiment,  com 
manded  no  war-vessel,  engaged  in  no  physical 
strife  whatever  with  the  British  foe.  His  writ 
ings  clearly  show  that  he  could  not  have  be 
longed  to  the  class  stigmatized  by  Tom  Paine 

186 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

as  "  the  summer  soldier  and  the  sunshine  pa 
triot;  "  but  why  did  he  not  enter  into  actual 
warfare?  Doubtless  we  shall  never  know. 
The  Americans  may  have  considered  him  more 
valuable  to  the  cause  while  he  was  at  his  desk 
than  in  the  field.  There  are  some  unaccount 
able  lapses  even  in  his  satirical  warfare — 
periods  when  he  wrote  almost  nothing  for  the 
amusement  of  the  ' '  home  folks  ' '  and  the  in 
struction  of  the  foreigners.  We  have  noted 
that  in  1776  he  sailed  for  the  West  Indies,  where 
he  remained  until  the  middle  of  1778,  and  on 
those  islands  he  composed  some  of  his  longest, 
most  imaginative,  and  most  nearly  perfect 
works.  But  they  do  not,  however,  deal  with 
rebellious  colonists.  By  1778  he  was  back  in 
the  colonies  and  at  his  old  work  of  sending 
forth  scornful  invectives  against  the  red-coats. 
Exulting  that  America  had  declared  her  inde 
pendence,  he  wrote  his  America  Independent 
and  Her  Everlasting  Deliverance  from  British 
Tyranny  and  Oppression.  How  many  a  com 
pliment  of  vinegar  flavor  King  George  and  his 
Tory  advisers  received  in  this  energetic 
tirade!  Looking  upon  the  Royalists,  Freneau 
thus  expressed  himself: 

187 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  So  vile  a  crew  the  world  ne'er  saw  before, 
And  grant,  ye  pitying  heavens,  it  may  no  more! 
If  ghosts  from  hell  infest  our  poisoned  air, 
Those  ghosts  have  entered  these  base  bodies  here. 

Whene  'er  they  wed,  may  demons  and  despair 
And  grief  and  woe  and  blackest  night  be  there; 
Fiends  leagued  from  hell  the  nuptial  lamp  display, 
Swift  to  perdition  light  them  on  their  way, 
Round   the   wide   world   their   devilish   squadrons 

chase — 
To  find  no  realm  that  grants  one  resting  place. " 

Then,  where  and  when  shall  Tories  find  their 
resting  place?  Preneau  finds  but  one  suitable 
spot: 

"  Far  to  the  North,  on  Scotland's  utmost  end, 
An  isle  there  lies,  the  haunt  of  every  fiend ; 
There  screeching  owls  and  screaming  vultures  rest, 
And  not  a  tree  adorns  its  barren  breast. 

Shrouded  in  ice,  the  blasted  mountains  show 
Their  cloven  heads,  to  fright  the  seas  below: 

The  blackening  wind,  incessant  storms  prolong, 
Dull  as  their  night,  and  dreary  as  my  song. 
When  stormy  winds  with  rain  refuse  to  blow, 
Then  from  the  dark  sky  drives  the  unpitying  snow ; 


188 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

No  peace,  no  rest,  the  elements  bestow, 

But  seas  forever  rage,  and  storms  forever  blow. 

"  Here,  miscreants,  here  with  Loyal  hearts  retire, 
Here  pitch  your  tents,  and  kindle  here  your  fire ; 
Here  desert  nature  will  her  stings  display, 
And  fiercest  hunger  on  your  vitals  prey." 

Another  lapse  now  occurred  in  Freneau's  lit 
erary  productiveness;  but  it  was  only  a  lull 
before  the  hurricane.  In  1780,  evidently  weary 
of  war  and  its  demands,  he  again  shipped  for 
the  West  Indies ;  but  he  had  scarcely  gotten  out 
to  sea  when  a  British  ship  bore  down  upon  his 
vessel,  captured  all,  and  carried  him  a  prisoner 
to  New  York.  Imprisoned  in  a  *  *  rotten  hulk, ' ' 
The  Scorpion,  he  literally  suffered  the  tor 
ments  of  hell,  gained  relief  in  the  unconscious 
ness  of  a  raging  fever,  and  awoke  to  find  him 
self  in  a  hospital  ship,  The  Hunter.  If  his 
bemuddled  brain  had  conceived  the  idea  that  a 
hospital  ship  would  present  any  fewer  horrors 
than  The  Scorpion,  he  was  very  soon  and  very 
rudely  undeceived.  Never  did  he  forget  those 
days  of  suffering.  In  his  poem  dealing  with 
the  experience,  The  British  Prison  Ship 
(1780),  he  cried  to  the  American  sailors: 

189 


.  WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Strike  not  your  standards  to  this  miscreant  foe. 
Better  the  greedy  wave  should  swallow  all, 
Better  to  meet  the  death-conducted  ball, 
Better  to  sleep  on  ocean's  deepest  bed, 
At  once  destroyed  and  numbered  with  the  dead, 
Than  thus  to  perish  in  the  face  of  day — 
Where  twice  ten-thousand  deaths  one  death  repay. ' ' 

Eemembrance  followed  him  everywhere;  he 
was  literally  full  of  the  "  Scorpion  "  poison. 
He  saw  in  his  dreams  the  beasts  in  human  form 
that  walked  the  deck  of  the  cursed  vessel: 

"  Still  in  my  view  some  English  brute  appears — 
Some   base-born   Hessian   slave   walks   threat 'ning 

by- 
Some  servile  Scot,  with  murder  in  his  eye, 
Still  haunts  my  sight,  as  vainly  they  bemoan 
Rebellions  managed  so  unlike  their  own! 

"  Oh  may  I  never  feel  the  poignant  pain, 
To  live  subjected  to  such  fiends  again, — 
Stewards  and  mates  that  hostile  Britain  bore, 
Cut  from  the  gallows  on  their  native  shore, — 
Their  ghastly  looks  and  vengeance — beaming  eyes 
Still  to  my  view  in  dismal  colors  rise. 

Hunger  and  thirst  to  work  our  woe  combine, 
And  mouldy  bread,  and  flesh  of  rotten  swine, 
The  mangled  carcase,  and  the  battered  brain, 
190 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

The  doctor's  poison,  and  the  captain's  cane, 
The  soldier's  musket,  and  the  steward's  debt, 
The  evening  shackle,  and  the  noon-day  threat! 

Shut  from  the  blessings  of  the  evening  air, 
Pensive  we  lay  with  mangled  corpses  there ; 
Meagre  and  wan  and  scorched  with  heat,  below, 
We  loomed  like  ghosts,  ere  death  had  made  us  so!  " 

One  figure  stands  out  before  most  of  the 
others  in  cruelty  and  savagery — the  Hessian 
doctor.  ' l  Fair  Science  never  called  the  wretch 
her  son."  Many  an  American  soldier  in  wars 
much  more  modern  than  the  Eevolution  can 
appreciate  the  truth  if  not  the  humor  of  this 
description  of  the  blundering  quack : 

"  He  on  his  charge  the  healing  work  begun 
With  antimonial  mixtures — by  the  tun; 

He  drenched  us  well  with  bitter  draughts,  'tis  true, 
Nostrums  from  Hell,  and  cortex  from  Peru; 
Some  with  his  pills  he  sent  to  Pluto 's  reign, 
And  some  he  blistered  with  his  flies  of  Spain; 
His  Cream  of  Tartar  walked  its  deadly  round, 
Till  the  lean  patient  at  the  potion  frowned, 
And  swore  that  hemlock,  death,  or  what  you  will, 
Were  nonsense  to  the  drugs  that  stuffed  his  bill. 
191 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

On  those  refusing,  he  bestowed  a  kick, 

Or  menaced  vengeance  with  his  walking-stick; 

Here,  uncontrolled,  he  exercised  his  trade, 

And  grew  experienced  by  the  deaths  he  made ; 

By  frequent  blows  we  from  his  cane  endured, 

He  killed  at  least  as  many  as  he  cured, 

On  our  lost  comrades  built  his  future  fame, 

And  scattered  fate  where'er  his  footsteps  came. 

Some  did  not  seem  obedient  to  his  will, 

And  swore  he  mingled  poison  with  his  pill; 

But  I  acquit  him  by  a  fair  confession — 

He  was  no  Englishman — he  was  a  Hessian ! 

Although  a  dunce,  he  had  some  sense  of  sin, 

Or  else — the  Lord  knows  where  we  now  had  been, — 

Perhaps  in  that  far  country  sent  to  range 

Where  never  prisoner  meets  with  an  exchange!  " 

After  this  experience  in  the  prison-ship  there 
was  nevermore  a  sentiment  of  peace  in  Fren- 
eau's  breast.  He  wrote  like  a  frenzied  man; 
his  whole  life  seemed  henceforth  to  be  bent 
toward  one  purpose: — to  show  the  British  and 
the  Tories  their  titter  fitness  for  the  land  of 
brimstone  and  eternal  damnation.  Look,  for  a 
moment,  at  his  Political  Balance,  or  the  Fates 
of  Britain  and  America  Compared.  Jove,  the 
king  of  all  Creation,  "  happened  to  light  on  the 
records  of  Fate." 

192 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  In  alphabet  order  this  volume  was  written, 
So  he  opened  at  B.,  for  the  article  '  Britain.' 
*  She  struggles  so  well/  said  the  god,  '  I  will  see 
What  the  sisters  in  Pluto 's  dominions  decree !  ' 

"  And  first  on  the  top  of  a  column  he  read — 
'  Of  a  king  with  a  mighty  soft  place  in  his  head, 
Who  should  join  in  his  temper  the  ass  and  the  mule, 
The  Third  of  his  name,  and  by  far  the  worst  fool. 

"  '  His  reign  shall  be  famous  for  multiplication, 
The  sire  and  the  king  of  a  whelp  generation ; 
But  such  is  the  will  and  the  purpose  of  Fate, 
For  each  child  he  begets  he  shall  forfeit  a  state.'  " 

This  did  not  give  Jove  all  the  information  desir 
able,  and,  in  order  that  he  might  discover  for 
himself  the  ultimate  end  of  Great  Britain,  he 
ordered  Vulcan  to  make  him  a  globe  represent 
ing  the  earth,  so  constructed  that  it  might  be 
taken  apart  and  weighed  in  sections.  Vulcan 
turned  out  a  fine  piece  of  work,  and  placed  in 
it  all  the  known  geographical  divisions. 

"  Adjacent  to  Europe  he  struck  up  an  island, 
One  part  of  it  low,  but  the  other  was  high  land, 
With  many  a  comical  creature  upon  it, 
And  one  wore  a  hat,  and  another  a  bonnet. 
.        .  .... 

13  193 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  These  poor  little  creatures  were  all  in  a  flame, 
To  the  lands  of  America  urging  their  claim, 
Still  biting  or  stinging  or  spreading  their  sails, — 
For  Vulcan  had  formed  them  with  stings  in  their 
tails. 

* l  So  poor  and  so  lean,  you  might  count  all  their  ribs, 
Yet  were  so  enraptured  with  crackers  and  squibs, 
That  Vulcan  with  laughter  almost  split  asunder — 
*  Because  they  imagined  their  crackers  were  thun 
der.'  " 

All  being  finished,  Jove,  with  the  aid  of  all 
the  gods,  succeeded  in  lifting  huge  Columbia — 
"  one  eighth  of  the  globe  " — into  the  scale;  but 
the  effort  cost  the  gods  many  a  grunt.  Then 
Jove  began  to  search  for  Great  Britain. 

"  Then  searching  about  with  his  fingers  for  Britain, 
Thought  he,  '  This  same  island  I  cannot  well  hit  on ; 
The  devil  take  him  who  first  called  her  the  Great ! 
If  she  was — she  is  vastly  diminished  of  late.' 

"  Like  a  man  that  is  searching  his  thigh  for  a  flea, 
He  peeped  and  he  fumbled,  but  nothing  could  see ; 
At  last  he  exclaimed — '  I'm  surely  upon  it — 
I  think  I  have  hold  of  a  highlander's  bonnet/  " 

By  the  aid,  however,  of  two  moons  used  as 
glasses,  he  at  length  gains  a  clear  view  of  the 
islands : 

194 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

1  But,  faith,  she 's  so  small  I  must  mind  how  I  shake 

her — 
In  a  box  I'll  enclose  her,  for  fear  I  should  break 

her: 

Though  a  god,  I  might  suffer  for  being  aggressor, 
Since  scorpions  and  vipers  and  hornets  possess  her, 


'  But,  Vulcan,  inform  me  what  creatures  are  these 
That  smell  so  of  onions  and  garlic  and  cheese  ?  ' 
Old  Vulcan  replied — '  Odds  splutter  a  nails! 
Why  these  are  the  Welsh,  and  the  country  is  Wales ! 
When  Taffy  is  vexed,  no  devil  is  ruder — 
Take  care  how  you  handle  the  offspring  of  Tudor !  ' 


Jove  peeped  through  his  moons  and  examined  their 
features, 

And  said,  *  By  my  troth,  they  are  wonderful  creat 
ures  ! — 

The  beards  are  so  long  they  encircle  their  throats, 

That — unless  they  are  Welshmen — I  swear  they  are 
goats. 

t  But  now,  my  dear  Juno,  pray  give  me  my  mit 
tens — 

The  insects  I  am  going  to  handle  are  Britons — 
I'll  draw  up  their  isle  with  a  finger  and  thumb, 
As  the  doctor  extracts  an  old  tooth  from  your  gum. ' 
195 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Then  he  raised  her  aloft — but  to  shorten  our  tale — 
She  looked  like  a  clod  in  the  opposite  scale, 
Britannia  so  small,  and  Columbia  so  large — 
A  ship  of  first  rate,  and  a  ferryman's  barge!  " 

Jove  was  disgusted. 

11  '  Then     cease     your     endeavors,     ye     vermin     of 

Britain  ' — 

And  here  in  derision  their  island  he  spit  on — 
'  'Tis  madness  to  seek  what  you  never  can  find, 
Or  think  of  uniting  what  nature  disjoined; 

"  '  But  still  you  may  flutter  awhile  with  your  wings, 
And  spit  out  your  venom,  and  brandish  your  stings ; 
Your  hearts  are  as  black  and  as  bitter  as  gall — 
A  curse  to  yourselves,  and  a  blot  on  the  Ball!  '  " 

Here  is  a  positive  genius  for  rubbing  the  fur 
the  wrong  way.  Doubtless  old  King  George, 
if  he  ever  read  any  of  these  tirades  of  Freneau, 
must  have  felt  like  exclaiming,  with  another 
foolish  king,  "  How  sharper  than  a  serpent's 
tooth  is  an  unthankful  child!  "  From  such  a 
hater  could  we  ever  expect  true  reconciliation? 
Even  after  George  III  had  made  his  speech 
recommending  peace,  Freneau  arose  in  his 
wrath  and  shouted : 

196 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Monster! — no  peace  shall  greet  thy  breast: 
Our  murdered  friends  shall  never  cease 
To  hover  round  and  break  thy  rest! 
The  Furies  shall  thy  bosom  tear, 
Remorse,  Distraction,  and  Despair, 
And  Hell  with  all  its  fiends,  be  there ! 

"  Cursed  be  the  ship  that  e'er  set  sail 

Hence,  freighted  for  thy  odious  shore; 
May  tempests  o'er  her  strength  prevail, 

Destruction  round  her  roar! 
May  Nature  all  her  aids  deny, 

The  sun  refuse  his  light, 
The  needle  from  its  object  fly, 
No  star  appear  by  night, 

Till  the  base  pilot,  conscious  of  his  crime, 
Directs  the  prow  to  some  more  grateful  clime. ' ' 

Freneau's  was  no  hackneyed  pen.  He  wrote 
with  his  whole  heart,  and  his  heart  was  one 
large  mass  of  concentrated  ire.  With  an 
originality  not  equalled  perhaps  by  any  other 
eighteenth  century  American  writer,  and  with 
a  vigor  worthy  of  his  riotous  times,  he  served 
the  colonial  cause  in  a  way  no  other  man  of 
the  age  could  have  served  it.  A  genuine  lover 
of  the  rights  of  man  was  this  Philip  Freneau; 
not  so  rhetorical  as  Tom  Paine,  but  undoubt- 

197 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

edly  more  sincere,  more  savagely  in  earnest  in 
his  efforts  to  crush  the  enemies  of  liberty.  He 
saw  the  possibilities  of  the  nation,  and  believed, 
as  he  wrote,  that 

"  The  time  shall  come  when  strangers  rule  no  more, 
Nor  cruel  mandates  vex  from  Britain's  shore; 
When  commerce  shall  extend  her  shortened  wing, 
And  her  rich  freights  from  every  climate  bring; 
When  mighty  towns  shall  flourish  free  and  great, — 
Vast  their  dominion,  opulent  their  state; 
When  one  vast  cultivated  region  teems 
From  ocean's  side  to  Mississippi's  streams, 
While  each  enjoys  his  vine  tree's  peaceful  shade 
And  even  the  meanest  has  no  foe  to  dread." 


IX 


JOHN  TRUMBULL 

We  come  now  to  the  last  of  the  more  promi 
nent  wits  of  this  battle  of  words, — John  Trum- 
bull  (1750-1831).  Tradition  tells  a  pretty  lit 
tle  story  about  that  name.  One  of  the  kings 
of  England — the  tradition  is  pleasantly  in 
definite — while  walking  through  a  field,  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  a  bull  who,  it  seems, 
was  not  especially  fond  of  kings.  The  vicious 
creature  rushed  bellowing  toward  the  ruler  and 
undoubtedly  would  soon  have  gored  the  royal 
sprinter  to  death  had  not  a  peasant  bravely 
hastened  to  the  rescue  and  battled  for  his  High 
ness'  life.  The  grateful  king  at  once  de 
clared  that  henceforth  the  laborer's  name 
should  be  Turnbull,  and,  what  was  of  more  im 
portance  to  the  rustic,  gave  him  a  pension  of 
one  hundred  marks  and  a  coat  of  arms  co 
piously  decorated  with  bulls'  heads.  Thus, 
for  a  long  time  the  name  was  Turnbull;  but 

199 


•   WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

some  centuries  after  the  incident  a  certain 
proud  member  of  the  family,  fearing  that  his 
ancestry  might  be  connected  by  the  scornful 
with  a  butcher-shop,  had  the  name  changed  to 
Trumbull,  and  so  it  has  remained  until  this  day. 

Tales  still  more  curious  are  told  about  the 
particular  Trumbull  now  under  our  observa 
tion.  It  is  declared,  in  his  private  papers,  that 
before  he  was  two  he  had  memorized  all  the 
verses  in  the  Primer  and  in  Watts'  Divine 
Songs  for  Children;  at  two  and  a  half  he  could 
read  readily;  at  five  he  had  completed  a  read 
ing  of  the  Bible,  and  was  composing  verses  of 
his  own.  Before  he  was  six  he  had  learned 
Latin  and  Greek  by  listening  to  his  father's 
pupils,  and  at  seven  he  passed  the  entrance  ex 
amination  for  Yale !  That  this  last  mentioned 
point  is  a  fact  may  be  ascertained  from  the  ac 
counts  given  of  it  in  the  old  files  of  various 
New  England  newspapers,  notably  The  Connec 
ticut  Gazette  of  September,  1757.  His  father 
had  the  good  sense,  however,  not  to  allow  him 
to  enter  the  college  until  he  was  thirteen. 

WTiat  might  we  not  expect  from  such  a 
youth?  That  he  would  become  either  an 
idiot  or  a  Macaulay.  He  became  neither.  So 

200 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

much  for  the  caprices  of  nature.  But  he  did 
develop  into  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of 
colonial  America,  certainly  one  of  the  keenest 
wits  of  his  day,  and  the  author  of  the  only 
American  mock-heroic  poem  that  approaches 
the  rank  of  Mac  Flecknoe  andThe  Dunciad.  Be 
fore  we  progress  further,  however,  perhaps  we 
should  note  something  of  his  life.  It  is  but 
human  nature  to  desire  to  know  where  a  man 
was  born,  why  he  was  born,  and  when  he  died. 

John  Trumbull  came  of  what  Emerson  and 
Holmes  called  the  Brahmin  stock  of  New  Eng 
land.  Born  at  Waterbury,  Connecticut,  in 
1750,  he  was  thoroughly,  one  might  almost  say, 
violently,  educated  by  his  father,  and  received 
the  bachelor's  degree  from  Yale  in  1767  and 
the  master's  in  1770.  If  any  reader  has  the 
idea  that  Yale  was  in  this  day  a  dull  and  gloomy 
cavern  of  asceticism  and  pessimistic  theology, 
he  is  much  mistaken.  A  gay  and  brilliant 
company  of  young  men  were  within  its  walls, 
and  there  was  a  genuine  love  and  interest  for 
the  purer  forms  of  literature  and  the  fine  arts 
perhaps  not  equalled  in  that  famous  institu 
tion  at  this  very  moment.  Here,  it  seems,  Trum 
bull  did  his  first  published  literary  work.  In 

201 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

September,  1769,  he  began  in  the  Boston  Chron 
icle  a  series  of  essays  named  The  Meddler, — 
and  the  name  was  indeed  fitting.  They  meddled 
with  everything  that  might  interest  a  mortal 
being.  Here  indeed  was  pure  love  of  writing. 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Trumbull  declared  his 
purpose  to  be  "  instructing  the  ignorant,  di 
verting  and  improving  the  learned,  rectifying 
the  tastes  and  manners  of  the  time,  and  culti 
vating  the  fine  arts, ' '  we  are  tempted  to  believe 
that  he  wrote,  just  as  many  a  writer  has  before 
and  since,  simply  for  the  fun  of  writing.  And 
the  pleasure  was  not  all  his ;  those  articles  have 
an  entertaining  quality  that  survives  to  this 
day.  Although  too  evidently  modelled  after  the 
Spectator,  they  dispense  very  pleasantly  with 
much  of  the  circumlocution  and  primness  of  the 
classic  English  papers,  and  speak  with  a  raci- 
ness  and  a  vivacity  that  perhaps  mark  them  as 
the  lineal  ancestor  of  the  Autocrat  series. 

We  may  not  here  go  into  a  detailed  exami 
nation;  for  there  are  more  important  produc 
tions  to  be  discussed;  perhaps,  however,  this 
little  advertisement  from  one  of  the  "  dis 
courses  "  may  give  some  idea  of  their  piquant 
yet  genial  flavor : 

202 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

*  "  To  Be  Sold  At  Public  Vendue, 

The  Whole  Estate  of 
Isabella  Sprightly,  Toast  and  Coquette, 
(Now  retiring  from  Business). 

1 '  Imprimis,  all  the  Tools  and  Utensils  necessary  for 
carrying  on  the  Trade,  viz:  Several  bundles  of  Darts 
and  Arrows,  well-pointed,  and  capable  of  doing  great 
execution.  A  considerable  quantity  of  Patches, 
Paint,  Brushes,  and  Cosmetics,  for  plastering,  paint 
ing,  and  whitewashing  the  face;  a  complete  set  of 
caps,  '  a  la  mode  a  Paris/  of  all  sizes  from  five  to 
fifteen  inches  in  height;  With  several  dozens  of 
Cupids,  very  proper  to  be  stationed  on  a  ruby  lip, 
a  diamond  eye,  or  a  roseate  cheek. 

"  Item,  as  she  proposes  by  certain  ceremonies  to 
transform  one  of  her  humble  servants  into  a  husband, 
and  keep  him  for  her  own  use,  she  offers  for  sale, 
Florio,  Daphnis,  Cynthio,  and  Cleanthes,  with  sev 
eral  others,  whom  she  won  by  a  constant  attendance 
on  business  during  the  space  of  four  years.  She 
can  prove  her  indisputable  right  thus  to  dispose  of 
them,  by  certain  deeds  of  gifts,  bills  of  sale,  and  at 
testation,  vulgarly  called  love-letters,  under  their  own 
hands  and  seals.  They  will  be  offered  very  cheap,  for 
they  are  all  of  them  broken-hearted,  consumptive,  or 
in  a  dying  condition.  Nay,  some  of  them  have  been 
dead  this  half  year,  as  they  declare  and  testify  in  the 
above-mentioned  writing. 

*  Copied  from  the  Trumbull  MSS.  as  given  in  Tyler's  Literary 
History  of  the  American  Revolution. 

203 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  N.B.  Their  hearts  will  be  sold  separately. " 
Again,  speaking  of  that  bad  habit  of  society 
folk,  of  being  out  late  and  arising  long  after  the 
cock  has  crowed  the  healthful  hour,  he  says : 

"  The  Afternoon  hath  of  late  made  great  encroach 
ments  upon  its  neighbors,  and  strangely  jostled  and 
discomposed  the  other  parts  of  the  day.  It  hath 
driven  forward  the  Morning  from  its  proper  station, 
and  forced  it  to  take  refuge  in  the  habitation  of 
Noon;  it  hath  made  Breakfast  and  Dinner  shake 
hands,  and  been  the  total  destruction  of  Supper;  it 
hath  devoured  a  large  portion  of  Night,  and  unless  a 
speedy  stop  be  put  to  its  motion,  may  probably  swal 
low  up  the  whole  four  and  twenty  Hours." 

It  is  evident  that  this  college-student  had  the 
talent  to  become  in  time  a  writer  of  ability,  and 
the  fact  was  just  as  clear  to  the  young  man 
himself  as  to  anybody  else.  The  year  he  re 
ceived  his  master's  degree  (1770)  he  began 
another  series,  The  Correspondent,  in  the  Con 
necticut  Journal  and  New  Haven  Post  Boy. 
We  do  not  know  why  the  editor  did  not  ampu 
tate  some  portion  of  his  paper's  name;  but  we 
can  readily  see  why  he  allowed  Trumbull  to 
contribute  to  his  columns.  This  second  series 
is  a  trifle  more  sarcastic  than  the  first,  and  is 
written  with  a  mock  dignity  and  supercilious 

204 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

loftiness  that  make  a  sympathetic  reader  un 
consciously  raise  his  eyebrows,  wag  his  head  in 
gay  unconcern,  and  try  to  act  just  as  super 
ciliously.  The  writer  himself,  however,  was 
really — and  perhaps  unknown  to  himself — 
growing  more  earnest.  He  attacked  various 
would-be  philosophers,  dogmatic  divines  of  the 
day,  and  sundry  ridiculous  vagaries  then  be 
coming  dangerously  popular ;  and  now  and  then 
he  hit  hard.  Clearly  this  industrious  college 
fellow  was  getting  ready  for  the  main  work  of 
his  life. 

After  receiving  his  master's  degree,  Trum- 
bull  studied  law  a  year ;  but  in  the  fall  of  1771 
he  was  back  at  Yale  as  a  tutor,  and  here  we 
find  him  for  the  next  two  years.  Evidently 
he  was  giving  considerable  time  to  a  serious 
study  of  philosophy;  for  several  of  his  pub 
lished  papers  of  this  period  deal  with  abstruse 
questions,  and  consequently  are  just  about  as 
interesting  to  the  general  reader  as  their  sub 
jects  are.  But  the  spirit  of  playfulness  in  the 
man  would  not  down,  in  spite  of  the  dignity  ex 
pected  of  a  Yale  tutor,  and  in  the  second  year  of 
his  work  there  we  see  him  once  more  enjoying 
life  in  the  preparation  of  a  second  series  of 

205 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  Correspondent.  At  this  time,  too,  ap 
peared  his  first  long  satirical  poem.  The 
Progress  of  Dulness,  published  in  1772,  was 
something  of  a  revelation  to  American  read 
ers.  Here  was  a  man  who  could  write  lines  not 
unworthy,  at  times,  of  Dryden  and  Pope.  And 
how  bitterly  true  this  Progress  was!  Such  a 
volume  of  protests  as  arose  immediately  after 
its  publication  had  never  before  greeted  an 
American  poem.  Surely  the  shoe  must  have 
more  than  fit;  it  must  have  pinched  the  tender 
New  England  foot.  As  to  that,  however,  we 
each  may  judge  for  ourselves  a  little  later  in 
this  discussion. 

It  now  seemed  to  occur  to  Trumbull,  as  to 
many  another  college  professor  since,  that  if 
he  intended  ever  to  possess  any  of  this  world 's 
goods  he  had  better  turn  his  wits  to  some  other 
profession.  In  November,  1773,  he  was  ad 
mitted  to  the  bar  of  Connecticut,  and  from  this 
time  forth  he  looked  to  the  law  for  his  daily 
bread.  Before,  however,  he  began  the  actual 
practice  of  it,  he  went  to  Boston,  where  he 
studied  with  John  Adams  and  lived  in  the  home 
of  another  prominent  man,  Thomas  Gushing. 
Doubtless  this  had  much  to  do  with  arousing 

206 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

that  patriotic  ire  for  which  he  afterwards  be 
came  so  noted,  and  also  in  shaping  his  future 
career  as  a  satirical  opponent  of  Toryism  and 
all  that  savored  of  royal  prerogative.  Then, 
too,  he  was  in  Boston  when  the  strife  first  began 
to  assume  astonishing  proportions,  when  the 
hastily  arranged  but  highly  successful  Tea 
Party  was  given,  and  when  King  George  tried 
so  vainly  to  "  bottle  up  "  Boston  and  seal  the 
cork  besides.  (Critics  will  kindly  excuse  this 
twentieth  century  expression;  we  must  use  a 
few  terms  later  than  Johnson's  day,  else  the 
language  will  become  petrified.)  We  must  not 
think,  however,  that  Trumbull's  interest  in  the 
law  made  him  forget  his  poetic  talent.  During 
that  year  at  Boston  he  composed  three  dignified, 
even  stern  poems,  The  Prophecy  of  Balaam, 
The  Destruction  of  Babylon,  and  An  Elegy  on 
the  Times,  Composed  at  Boston  during  the 
Operation  of  the  Port  Bill.  Needless  to  say, 
among  such  environments  his  poems  breathed 
forth  prophecies  of  dire  disaster  to  England 
and  all  her  friends. 

During  the  next  year  Trumbull  settled  down 
to  the  serious  practice  of  law.  And  in  spite  of 
his  frail  health  and  the  fact  that  he  was  known 

207 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

as  a  humorist  and  not  an  especially  dignified 
barrister,  he  was  exceedingly  successful,  be 
came  State  Attorney  for  Hartford  County,  a 
member  of  the  legislature,  a  Judge  of  the 
Superior  Court,  and  finally  a  Judge  of  the  Su 
preme  Court  of  Errors.  But  fickle  is  fame. 
Doubtless  the  folk  of  the  times  thought  this 
man  would  long  be  remembered  as  a  mighty 
judge  in  the  land  and  that  his  scribblings  of 
the  Eevolutionary  days  would  soon  pass  into 
oblivion ;  and  lo !  not  one  person  in  ten  thousand 
knows  that  he  ever  sat  on  the  bench,  while  any 
high- school  boy  can  tell  you  that  he  wrote 
McFingal. 

But  to  return  to  that  year  at  Boston.  Just 
here  is  the  turning  point  in  TrumbulPs  career. 
He  is  now  to  sacrifice  his  ambition  for  a  life 
devoted  to  pure  literature.  He  is  to  offer  his 
education,  his  culture,  his  genius,  on  the  altar 
of  his  harassed  country.  Henceforth  he  is  to 
be  a  satirist,  a  scoffing,  ridiculing,  boisterous 
maker  of  popular  verse,  instead  of  a  creator 
of  the  noble  poetry  which  he  hoped  and  had  the 
talent  to  write.  That  he  did  this,  not  through 
an  itching  for  fame,  but  through  genuine  love 
of  country,  is  evidenced  in  the  fact  that  much  of 

208 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

his  work  at  this  period  was  anonymous  and 
none  of  it  remunerative. 

In  August,  1775,  he  wrote  for  the  Connecti 
cut  Courant,  a  burlesque  on  Gage's  proclama 
tion  to  the  "  rebels, "  and  doubtless  the  ap 
plause  which  this  effort  received  encouraged 
him  to  hasten  his  work  on  his  masterpiece, 
McFingal,  then  under  preparation.  The  first 
canto  of  this  mock  epic  appeared  in  Philadel 
phia  on  almost  the  same  day  in  January,  1776, 
as  Tom  Paine 's  vigorous  treatise,  Common- 
sense.  Of  course,  John  Trumbull  wrote  much 
after  this  date  but  the  main  literary  work  of 
his  life  was  now  done.  In  1781,  when  the 
strain  of  war  was  practically  over,  he  divided 
this  first  canto  of  McFingal  into  two,  added  two 
more,  and  in  1782  issued  the  poem  in  its  present 
form.  Henceforth  busy  with  his  duties  as  a 
lawyer  and  judge,  he  passed  his  life  in  industry 
and  with  undoubted  usefulness  to  his  country 
men.  But  the  spark  that  might  have  become  a 
flame  of  genius  had  perished,  it  seems,  in  the 
day  of  strife,  and  the  poet  that  might  have  been 
remained  merely  the  poet — that  might  have 
been.  In  1825  the  old  man,  a  distinguished 
jurist  by  this  time,  decided  to  remove  to  De- 

14  209 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

troit  to  spend  his  last  days  with  his  daughter 
in  that  wilderness  village.  He  tarried  for  a 
few  days  in  New  York  City,  where  a  great 
banquet  was  given  him,  and  all  the  famous  men 
of  the  day,  it  seems,  gathered  to  bid  him  God 
speed.  At  Detroit  he  lived  the  quiet,  studious 
life  of  which  he  was  always  fond,  and  there  in 
1831  he  died.  A  striking  monument  stands 
over  his  grave  in  Elmwood  cemetery  in  that 
city. 

Here  was  a  man  who,  in  a  work  which  he  de 
clared  uncongenial,  surpassed  any  other  Ameri 
can  who  has  ever  attempted  the  type  of  verse 
that  made  the  fame  of  Dryden,  Pope,  Churchill, 
and  a  score  of  other  poetic  wits  of  Great 
Britain.  In  what  traits  does  he  surpass?  It 
is  necessary  for  our  purpose  here  to  examine 
but  two  of  his  works, — his  masterpieces,  The 
Progress  of  Dulness  and  McFingal. 

As  we  have  intimated,  Trumbull  did  not  be 
lieve  himself  a  natural  satirist.  Commenting 
upon  the  question,  he  once  wrote :  "  I  was  born 
the  dupe  of  imagination.  My  satirical  turn  was 
not  native.  It  was  produced  by  the  keen  spirit 
of  critical  observation  operating  on  disap 
pointed  expectation,  and  avenging  itself  on  real 
or  fancied  wrongs."  One  cannot  read  The 

210 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Progress  of  Dulness  without  seriously  doubt 
ing  the  statement.  Even  if  not  to  the  manner 
born,  however,  he  would  in  all  probability  have 
been  forced  into  satirical  conflicts  by  the  very 
spirit  of  the  times.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the 
day  to  be  a  witty  scribbler.  That  cross-grained 
genius,  Pope,  had  cast  his  flippant  slurs  at  all 
forms  of  humanity;  Charles  Churchill  was 
stinging  the  reading  world  with  a  sharp  and 
venomous  pen;  while  a  host  of  Grub  Street 
slashers  were  exercising  their  ill-natured 
spleen.  It  paid  to  be  satirists ;  men  feared  and 
endeavored  to  conciliate  them. 

Whatever  the  reason,  it  was  not  the  Eevolu- 
tion  that  made  Trumbull  a  merciless  wit.  The 
Progress  of  Dulness,  written  before  the  war, 
has  a  keenness,  a  precision  in  its  thrusts,  an 
accuracy  of  observation  that  show  an  unusual 
genius  for  saying  sharp  things  in  a  sharp  way. 
The  poem  deals  with  three  phases  of  intel 
lectual  poverty — a  poverty  just  as  prevalent 
to-day  as  in  the  eighteenth  century.  First 
come  the  adventures  of  Tom  Brainless,  wherein 
the  forms  of  education  offered  by  American 
colleges  of  Trumbull's  day  are  arraigned  and 
proved  to  be  as  useless  as  some  phases  of  the 
modern  system.  Tom,  the  farmer's  son,  must 

211 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

go  to  college.  He  has  shown  no  particular  apti 
tude  for  study, — in  fact,  he  is  something  of  a 
blockhead;  but  his  parents  have  made  the  de 
cree,  and  to  college  Tom  must  go.  In  the  in 
stitution  he  is  soon  overcome  by  that  most 
prevalent  college  disease — laziness. 

"  Greek  spoils  his  eyes,  the  print's  so  fine, 
Grown  dim  with  study,  or  with,  wine ; 
Of  Tally's  Latin  much  afraid, 
Each  page  he  calls  the  doctor's  aid; 
While  geometry  with  lines  so  crooked, 
Sprains  all  his  wits  to  overlook  it. 
His  sickness  puts  on  every  name, 
Its  cause  and  uses  still  the  same, — 
'Tis  tooth-ache,  colic,  gout,  or  stone, 
With  phases  various  as  the  moon ; 
But  though  through  all  the  body  spread, 
Still  makes  its  cap'tal  seat,  the  head. 
In  all  diseases,  'tis  expected, 
The  weakest  parts  be  most  infected. 
Kind  Head- Ache,  hail !  thou  blest  disease, 
The  friend  of  idleness  and  ease; 
Who,  mid  the  still  and  dreary  bound 
Where  college  walls  her  sons  surround, 
In  spite  of  fears,  in  justice  'spite, 
Assum'st  o'er  laws  dispensing  right, 
Set'st  from  his  task  the  blunderer  free, 
Excused  by  dullness  and  by  thee." 
212 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Other  students  work  hard. 

"  And  plodding  on  in  one  dull  tone, 
Gain  ancient  tongues  and  lose  their  own." 

Tom,  however,  is  in  no  such  danger. 

At  length  the  young  dunce  comes  forth 
with  his  diploma;  how  he  obtained  it  is 
one  of  those  mysteries  known  only  to  weary 
faculties  and  college  presidents.  See  the 
fledgling  Solomon,  as  he  disdainfully  mingles 
with  the  stupid  populace. 

"  Our  hero's  wit  and  learning  now  may 
Be  proud  by  token  of  diploma, 
Of  that  diploma  which  with  speed 
He  learns  to  construe  and  to  read ; 
And  stalks  abroad  with  conscious  stride, 
In  all  the  airs  of  pedant  pride, 
With  passport  sign'd  for  wit  and  knowledge 
And  current  under  seal  of  college." 

But,  alas, 

"  Few  months  now  past,  he  sees  with  pain, 
His  purse  as  empty  as  his  brain." 

His  father  advises  him  "  to  teach  a  school  at 
first  and  then  to  preach,"  and  Tom  promptly 

213 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

decides  to  become  a  teacher.  This  is,  of 
course,  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world, 
as  school-boards  are  frequently  seeking  cheap 
blockheads,  and  such  fellows  seldom  fail  to  se 
cure  the  position  if  they  sell  their  ignorance 
lower  than  other  blockheads. 

Tom  is  a  great  success ;  he  can  wield  the  rod's 
"electric  end"  with  wonderful  agility.  But 
the  real  ambition  of  his  life  is  to  become  a 
preacher.  He  studies  theology  and 

' '  Learns  with  nice  art  to  make  with  ease 
The  Scriptures  speak  whate  'er  he  please ; 
With  judgment,  unperceived,  to  quote 
What  Poole  explained,  or  Henry  wrote; 
To  give  the  gospel  new  editions, 
Split  doctrines  into  propositions, 
Draw  motives,  uses,  inferences, 
And  torture  words  in  thousand  senses; 
Learn  the  grave  style  and  goodly  phrase, 
Safe  handed  down  from  Cromwell's  days, 
And  shun,  with  anxious  Care  the  while, 
The  infection  of  a  modern  style !  ' ' 

Thus  equipped,  he  goes  forth  to  find  a  flock, 
discovers  it  in  a  withered,  or  more  accurately 
speaking,  a  petrified  country-town,  sinks  into 
a  living  oblivion, 

214 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

1 '  And  starves  on  sixty  pounds  a  year ; 
And  culls  his  texts,  and  tills  his  farm, 
Does  little  good  and  little  harm; 
On  Sunday,  in  his  best  array, 
Deals  forth  the  dullness  of  the  day ; 
And  while  above  he  spends  his  breath, 
The  yawning  audience  nod  beneath." 

Behold  what  wonders  education  hath  wrought ! 
Thus  endeth  the  story  of  Tom  Brainless. 

The  second  part  of  The  Progress  of  Dulness 
tells  of  one,  Dick  Hairbrain,  and  is  a  really 
strong  piece  of  writing  dealing  with  a  subject 
which  is  still  paramount  in  college  circles — the 
evil  life  of  the  money-cursed,  pampered,  and 
sensual  college  boy.  The  third  part  of  the 
poem  is  even  more  modern.  In  fact,  we  have 
not  even  yet  reached  the  high  plane  of  some  of 
the  views  expressed  in  this  treatise  in  verse. 
Miss  Harriet  Simper  shows  us,  by  her 
ignorance,  silliness,  and  empty  life,  the  folly  of 
giving  women  no  deeper  and  higher  insight 
into  knowledge,  of  excluding  her  from  the 
realm  of  higher  thought,  and  of  condemning 
her  to  a  shallow,  narrow  round  of  existence. 
What  a  fate  is  Harriet's,  and  yet  how  common 
a  one! 

215 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

' '  Poor  Harriet  now  hath  had  her  day ; 
No  more  the  beaux  confess  her  sway; 
New  beauties  push  her  from  the  stage ; 
She  trembles  at  th'  approach  of  age, 
And  starts  to  view  the  alter 'd  face 
That  wrinkles  at  her  in  her  glass. 
So  Satan,  in  the  monk's  tradition, 
Feared  when  he  met  his  apparition. 
At  length  her  name  each  coxcomb  cancels 
From  standing  lists  of  toasts  and  angels ; 
And  slighted  where  she  shone  before, 
A  grace  and  goddess  now  no  more. 
Despised  by  all,  and  doomed  to  meet 
Her  lovers  at  her  rival's  feet, 
She  flies  assemblies,  shuns  the  ball, 
And  cries  out,  vanity,  on  all; 
Affects  to  scorn  the  tinsel-shows 
Of  glittering  belles  and  gaudy  beaux 

Now  careless  grown  of  airs  polite, 
Her  noonday  nightcap  meets  the  sight; 
Her  hair  uncomb'd  collects  together 
With  ornaments  of  many  a  feather 

A  careless  figure  half  undress 'd 

(The  reader's  wits  may  guess  the  rest) ; 

She  spends  her  breath,  as  years  prevail, 
At  this  sad,  wicked  world  to  rail, 
To  slander  all  her  sex  impromptu, 
And  wonder  what  the  times  will  come  to." 
216 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

This,  be  it  remembered,  is  not  a  crude  pro 
duction  of  an  uncultured  provincial.  There  is 
an  admirable  finish  in  much  of  it,  and,  with 
this  polish,  an  artistic  unity,  a  keen  observa 
tion,  a  power  of  sustaining,  and  an  ability  to 
produce  epigram  not  unworthy,  at  times,  of 
Pope  himself. 

Well  conceived  and  well  written  as  this  is, 
McFingal  is  a  much  more  masterly  production. 
In  this  we  approach,  perhaps  at  times  even 
equal,  the  excellence  of  the  Dunciad,  Mac  Fleck- 
noe,  and  portions  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock. 
Griswold  once  said  that  it  was  the  best  imita 
tion  of  Butler's  Eudibras  that  had  been  writ 
ten;  but  if  this  really  is  an  imitation  of  the 
famous  English  satire,  here  is  an  instance 
where  the  imitation  excels  at  many  points  the 
original.  It  can  make  no  claim  to  be  noble  or 
beautiful  poetry;  but  it  has  that  saving  grace 
which  every  successful  satire  must  possess, — 
energy,  and  withal  a  kind  of  verse  which,  while 
not  accurate  in  its  metre  and  rhyme,  compels  a 
smile  through  its  agility. 

For  those  who  have  not  read  the  poem  there 
awaits  what  the  modern  editor  calls  "  a  rat 
tling  good  story. ' '  Squire  McFingal,  a  Scotch- 
American  living  in  a  provincial  town,  believed 

217 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

heartily  in  absolute  submission  to  Parliament. 
The  Squire  was  a  most  windy  orator,  ready  to 
speak  on  any  subject  or  occasion;  but  his  chief 
power  lay  in  telling  in  thunderous  tones  just 
what  would  happen  if  Americans  did  not  be 
have  better.  He 

"  Brought  armies  o'er  by  sudden  pressings 
Of  Hanoverians,  Swiss,  and  Hessians; 
Feasted  with  blood  his  Scottish  clan, 
And  hang'd  all  rebels,  to  a  man; 
Divided  their  estates  and  pelf, 
And  took  a  goodly  share  himself. ' ' 

Now,  Squire  McFingaPs  chief  rival  in  the 
town  was  a  certain  patriot  named  Honorius. 
In  the  course  of  colonial  events  a  town-meeting 
was  held  in  which  Honorius  made  a  fiery 
harangue  to  the  citizens.  In  the  midst  of  the 
speech  the  Squire  came  in  frowning  severely, 
and  took  a  seat  near  the  orator ;  but  Honorius, 
not  a  whit  abashed,  continued  his  loud-voiced 
discourse.  "  Britain/'  shouted  he, 

"  .  .  .  midst  her  airs  so  flighty, 
Now  took  a  whim  to  be  almighty ; 
Urged  on  to  desperate  heights  of  frenzy, 
Affirmed  her  own  omnipotency ; 
Would  rather  ruin  all  her  race 
Than  'bate  supremacy  an  ace." 
218 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

When  Americans  protested,  he  declared,  Eng 
land 

"  Then  signed  her  warrants  of  ejection, 
And  gallows  raised  to  stretch  our  necks  on ; 
And  on  these  errands  sent  in  rage, 
Her  bailiff  and  her  hangman,  Gage ; 
And  at  his  heels,  like  dogs  to  bait  us, 
Despatched  her  '  posse  comitatus. '  ' 

And  who  is  this  mighty  Gage?  What  powers 
are  his?  What  strength  of  intellect,  culture, 
followers,  resources? 

11  And  as  old  heroes  gained  by  shifts, 
From  gods,  as  poets  tell,  their  gifts, 
Our  general,  as  his  actions  show, 
Gained  like  assistance  from  below, — 
By  Satan  graced  with  full  supplies 
From  all  his  magazine  of  lies." 

Then  the  wrathful  Honorius  turned  upon  the 
Squire  himself  and  called  that  stern-faced  Tory 
the  leader  of  a  party  composed  of 

"  Priests  who,  if  Satan  should  sit  down 
To  make  a  Bible  of  his  own, 
Would  gladly,  for  the  sake  of  mitres, 
Turn  his  inspired  and  sacred  writers; 
Lawyers  who,  should  he  wish  to  prove 
His  title  t'  his  old  seat  above, 
219 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Would,  if  his  cause  he'd  give  'em  fees  in 
Bring  writs  of  '  Entry  sur  disseisin,' 
Plead  for  him  boldly  at  the  session, 
And  hope  to  put  him  in  possession; 
Merchants  who,  for  his  kindly  aid, 
Would  make  him  partners  in  their  trade ; 
And  judges  who  would  list  his  pages 
For  proper  liveries  and  wages." 

McFingal  could  stand  no  more.  Arising  in 
his  wrath,  he  made  a  few  preliminary  remarks 
and  then  entered,  as  usual,  into  a  hair-raising 
prophecy.  "  Behold!  "  he  cried, 

"  Behold  the  world  will  stare  at  new  sets 
Of  home-made  Earls  in  Massachusetts; 
Admire,  arrayed  in  ducal  tassels, 
Your  Ol'vers,  Hutchinsons,  and  Vassals; 


In  wide-sleeved  pomp  of  goodly  guise, 
What  solemn  rows  of  bishops  rise ! 
Aloft  a  Card'nal's  hat  is  spread 
O'er  punster  Cooper's  rev 'rend  head! 


Knights,  viscounts,  barons  shall  ye  meet 
As  thick  as  pavements  in  the  street! 
Even  I,  perhaps — Heaven  speed  my  claim- 
Shall  fix  a  Sir  before  my  name." 

220 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

But  these  new-fangled  notions  cannot  be  vic 
torious.  The  so-called  patriots  will  soon  be 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water. 

"  The  vulgar  knaves 
Will  do  more  good  preserved  as  slaves." 

Affairs  now  became  decidedly  exciting. 
Honorius  replied  to  the  Squire's  speech,  but 
was  interrupted  by  some  Tory  rowdies,  and  the 
meeting  bid  fair  to  terminate  in  a  free-for-all 
fight.  Luckily,  however,  a  loud  disturbance 
outside  suddenly  drew  the  people's  attention, 
and  the  meeting  adjourned  sine  die. 

Here  the  original  McFingal  story  closed. 
But,  as  we  have  seen,  Trumbull  in  1782  pub 
lished  the  poem  enlarged  into  four  cantos,  and 
in  this  version  we  find,  to  our  great  satisfac 
tion,  that  the  Squire  at  length  became  so  ob 
noxious  that  violent  hands  were  laid  upon  him 
and  forced  him  to  flee  the  country.  It  all  hap 
pened  in  this  manner.  The  patriots  had 
erected  a  Liberty  Pole,  and  at  its  top  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  waved  defiance  to  all  Tories. 
McFingal's  blood  was  fired.  Gathering  his  lit 
tle  band  of  retainers  he  attempted  to  cut  down 
the  unseemly  staff.  Naturally  dire  conflict 
ensued. 

221 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  At  once  with  resolution  fatal, 
Both  Whigs  and  Tories  rush'd  to  battle, 
Instead  of  weapons,  either  band 
Seized  on  such  arms  as  came  to  hand. 

So  clubs  and  billets,  staves  and  stones 
Met  fierce,  encountering  every  sconce, 
And  cover 'd  o'er  with  knobs  and  pains 
Each  void  receptacle  for  brains. 

And  many  a  groan  increased  the  din 

From  batter 'd  nose   and   broken  shin. 

McFingal,  rising  at  the  word, 

Drew  forth  his  old  militia-sword; 

Thrice  cried  '  King  George, '  as  erst  in  distress, 

Knights  of  romance  invoked  a  mistress ; 

And  like  a  meteor  rushing  through, 
Struck  on  their  Pole  a  vengeful  blow/' 

Affairs    would    have    gone    badly  with  the 
patriots 

"  Had  not  some  Pow'r,  a  Whig  at  heart, 
Descended  down  and  took  their  part 
(Whether  't  were  Pallas,  Mars,  or  Iris, 
'Tis  scarce  worth  while  to  make  inquiries)." 

This    sympathetic    Power,    whoever   he    was, 

222 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

urged  a  Whig  to  pick  up  a  spade  and  advance 
to  the  defence  of  the  emblem  of  freedom.  The 
spade  is  mightier  than  the  sword. 

"  The  sword  perfidious  fails  its  owner; 
That  sword,  which  oft  had  stood  its  ground, 
By  huge  trainbands  encircled  round; 
And  on  the  bench,  with  blade  right  loyal, 
Had  won  the  day  at  many  a  trial, 
Of  stone  and  clubs  had  braved  th'  alarms, 
Shrunk  from  these  new  Vulcanian  arms. 
The  spade  so  temper 'd  from  the  sledge, 
Nor  keen  nor  solid  harm  'd  its  edge, 
Now  met  it,  from  his  arm  of  might, 
Descending  with  steep  force  to  smite ; 
The  blade  snapp  'd  short — and  from  his  hand, 
With  rust  embrown  'd  the  glittering  sand. ' ' 

McFingal  turns  to  call  his  friends. 

* '  In  vain ;  the  Tories  all  had  run, 

When  scarce  the  fight  was  well  begun : 
Their  setting  wigs  he  saw  decreas'd 
Far  in  th'  horizon  tow'rd  the  west. 

The  fatal  spade  discharged  a  blow 
Tremendous  on  his  rear  below." 

The  fate  that  now  faces  the  Squire  is  indeed 

223 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

a  serious  one.    A  court  is  hastily  formed,  and 
a  decision  still  more  hastily  made. 

"  Forthwith  the  crowd  proceed  to  deck 
With  halter 'd  noose  McFingal's  neck, 
While  he  in  peril  of  his  soul 
Stood  tied  half -hanging  to  the  pole ; 
Then  lifting  high  the  ponderous  jar, 
Pour  'd  o  'er  his  head  the  smoking  tar. 

And  now  the  feather-bag  displayed 
Is  waved  in  triumph  o'er  his  head, 
And  clouds  him  o  'er  with  feathers  missive, 
And  down,  upon  the  tar,  adhesive : 
Not  Maia's  son,  with  wings  for  ears, 
Such  plumage  round  his  visage  wore; 
Nor  Milton's  six  wing'd  angel  gathers 
Such  superfluity  of  feathers. 
Now  all  complete  appears  our  Squire, 
Like  Gorgon  or  Chimaera  dire." 

Decked  in  this  gay  attire,  McFingal  sneaks 
away  to  his  home,  hides  in  a  turnip  bin  in  the 
cellar,  and  from  this  lowly  station  delivers  a 
farewell  address  to  the  remnant  of  his  fright 
ened  followers.  Soon  afterwards,  he  goes  his 
way  to  Boston,  hopeless  and  sick  of  Whigs  and 
liberty. 
There  is  a  boisterous  energy  in  all  this,  a 

224 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

rude  activity,  that  suited  the  not  highly  re 
fined  but  exceedingly  earnest  populace  of  the 
day.  Then,  too,  its  satire  is  not  so  bitter  but 
that  the  very  enemy  himself  might  enjoy  the 
situations.  One  wonders  if  Irving  was  not  un 
consciously  influenced  by  the  once  popular  epic ; 
for  the  Knickerbocker  History  seems  in  not  a 
few  pages  a  McFingal  in  prose.  Moses  Coit 
Tyler,  in  his  Literary  History  of  the  American 
Revolution,  calls  the  poem  "  one  of  the  world 's 
masterpieces  of  political  badinage,"  and  such 
praise  is  not  extravagant.  Though  modelled 
to  some  extent  on  Butler 's  Hudibras,  it  is  un 
doubtedly  much  higher  in  tone,  contains  a 
larger  number  of  eloquent  passages,  and  has  in 
general  a  more  skilful  polish  than  that  famous 
English  classic.  Here  and  there  one  seems  to 
hear  snatches  from  the  master-minds  of  an 
cient  and  modern  days.  And  there  is,  in  spite 
of  the  subject  and  the  treatment,  a  flavor  of 
culture  through  it  all.  And  its  author  knew 
all  the  tricks  of  the  trade.  It  abounds  in  sur 
prising  rhymes,  fantastic  ideas,  mock  dignity, 
and  a  jig-like  movement  which  seldom  fail  to 
excite  merriment.  Then,  too,  there  is  a  Pope- 
like  talent  for  making  memory-tempting  coup 
lets.  Who  has  not  heard,  for  instance, 

15  225 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  No  man  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw, 
With  good  opinion  of  the  law  "? 

There  has  been  from  time  to  time  some  rather 
useless  disputing  among  students  of  American 
literature  as  to  whether  Trumbull  was  influ 
enced  more  by  Butler  or  by  the  more  bitter 
satirist,  Churchill.  It  does  not  seem  necessary 
to  enter  here  into  a  discussion  of  the  question. 
We  know  certainly  that  the  story  served  its 
purpose  and  that  it  sounded  through  New  Eng 
land  like  a  trumpet  call.  Everybody  read  it; 
everybody  believed  its  truths;  and  everybody 
recognized  its  helpfulness.  To  us  it  presents 
in  entertaining  form  an  accurate  portrayal  of 
Eevolutionary  conditions  and  sentiments,  just 
as  it  did  to  those  stragglers  before  whom  it 
placed  in  clearer  light  the  ideals  for  which  they 
were  striving.  For  these  reasons  it  gained  the 
public  ear,  and,  as  far  as  may  be  expected  of 
any  piece  of  literature  written  for  an  emer 
gency,  still  holds  it.  The  poem  is  yet  read,  but 
its  popularity  should  be  greater ;  for  aside  from 
its  historical  interest  and  its  power  of  enter 
taining,  it  shows  the  skilful  use  of  a  literary 
weapon  which  has  been  used  in  all  the  great 
struggles  of  the  civilized  world,  and  which  will 
be  used  in  the  many  to  come. 

226 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 


Toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  it 
happened  that  a  number  of  Yale  men  were  liv 
ing  in  or  near  the  town  of  Hartford,  Connecti 
cut.  Now,  whenever  old  students  of  one  alma 
mater  meet,  they  always  feel  like  shouting  the 
college  song,  giving  the  college  yell,  and  closing 
the  meeting  with  the  singing  of  "  Blest  Be  the 
Tie  That  Binds. "  Perhaps  eighteenth  century 
alumni  were  a  trifle  too  dignified  for  that  sort 
of  thing ;  but  they  felt  the  bonds  of  college  days 
nevertheless,  and  of  course  sometimes  asso 
ciated  with  one  another  until  their  little  group 
really  became  a  "  club."  Certainly  the  next 
most  natural  move  in  those  days  would  be  the 
reciting  of  original  poems  in  these  clubs,  the 
reading  of  witty  papers  to  one  another,  and 
finally  debates  on  such  timely  subjects  as 
Homer,  Shakespeare,  and  "  the  great  Mr. 
Pope."  Now,  you  must  remember  that  early 
newspapers  were  just  as  eager  for  good 
"  copy  "  as  the  journals  of  to-day,  and  natu- 

227 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

rally  the  third  step  in  this  club  life  would  be 
the  publication  of  the  aforesaid  poetic  lines  and 
witty  essays. 

THE  HARTFORD  WITS 

In  telling  this,  I  have  told  you  the  story  of 
the  development  of  those  Yale  men  into  the 
once  famous  group  known  as  the  "  Hartford 
Wits."  Of  course,  there  were  other  reasons 
for  the  group's  existence.  Yale  men  of  that 
era,  especially  one,  Timothy  Dwight,  who  after 
wards  became  president  of  Yale,  considered 
Harvard  men  dangerously  unorthodox.  In 
deed,  some  of  those  Harvard  scholars  boldly 
intimated  that  there  wasn't  an  ounce  of  brim 
stone  in  all  hell,  while  some  of  the  younger 
fellows  even  had  the  audacity  to  doubt  the  very 
existence  of  that  tropical  settlement.  Timothy 
Dwight,  who  was  a  clergyman  of  the  original 
"blue-stocking"  order,  thought  it  was  scan 
dalous,  and  wrote  in  his  Triumph  of  Infidelity 
some  satirical  lines  about 

"...  the  smooth  Divine,  unused  to  wound 
The  sinner's  heart,  with  hell's  alarming  sound. 
No  terrors  on  his  gentle  tongue  attend; 
No  grating  truths  the  nicest  ear  offend." 
228 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Yale  men  thought  it  their  sacred  duty  to  com 
bat  Harvard  in  such  a  matter  as  this. 

Then  came  far  more  important  affairs.  The 
Eevolution  was  on,  and  the  patriots  needed 
every  kind  of  aid  possible.  Nobly,  even  if  at 
times  somewhat  crudely,  the  Hartford  Wits  re 
sponded.  John  Trumbull  was  one  of  them, 
and  we  know  his  part  in  the  merciless  ridicule 
of  all  that  savored  of  Toryism;  Timothy 
Dwight,  who  aided  now  and  then,  preached  to 
the  soldiers  and  wrote  to  the  stay-at-homes; 
and,  as  we  shall  see  later,  nearly  every  other 
member  of  the  little  group,  composed  of  such 
men  as  David  Humphreys,  M.  F.  Cogswell,  Joel 
Barlow,  Dr.  Lemuel  Hopkins,  Theodore  Dwight 
and  Eichard  Alsop,  served  his  country  not  only 
with  pen  but  with  arms.  For  a  season  war 
broke  up  the  witty  company,  and  they  all  could 
sympathize  with  one  of  the  number  who  asked: 

"  Amid  the  roar  of  drums  and  guns, 
When  meet  again  the  Muses'  sons  ?  " 

But  the  struggle  of  arms  past,  "  they  hung 
up  the  sword  in  Hartford,  and  grasped  the 
lyre."  And  the  lyre  must  needs  be  a  strong 
and  often  harsh  one;  for  now  many  new  dan- 

229 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

gers  presented  themselves  and  the  times  were 
indeed  troubled.  The  war  debt  was  thirty- 
eight  millions ;  the  lower  classes  refused  to  pay 
taxes ;  the  paper  money  was  almost  worthless ; 
the  war  veterans  had  not  been  paid  for  months ; 
the  bounties  of  land  promised  many  of  them  had 
not  been  presented.  Congress  had  promised 
the  officers  five  years'  extra  pay,  and  the  peo 
ple  objected  loudly.  The  Cincinnati  Society, 
founded  by  those  who  had  been  so  fortunate  or 
unfortunate  as  to  wear  shoulder-straps,  was 
looked  upon  as  an  attempt  to  form  a  perpetual 
aristocracy  in  free  America.  France,  in  her 
wars,  looked  to  the  States  for  aid,  and  many 
hot-heads  were  in  favor  of  granting  it. 
Numerous  mobs  were  formed  in  Connecticut, 
and  a  certain  Shay  had  a  miniature  rebellion 
in  Massachusetts.  Participants  in  these  law 
less  acts  sought  refuge  in  Ehode  Island,  and 
that  "little  but  mighty"  commonwealth  re 
fused  to  surrender  them.  Every  State  had  its 
suspicions  concerning  a  union,  and  preferred  to 
be  a  republic  by  itself.  The  need  of  a  central 
ized  government  was  paramount.  Some 
speaker  of  the  day  very  cleverly  said,  "  Thir 
teen  staves  and  ne'er  a  hoop  cannot  make  a 

230 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

barrel."  Many  orators,  however,  were  not  so 
reasonable,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  went  about 
the  country  making  loud-mouthed  appeals  to 
the  people  to  rise  in  their  might  and  sweep  away 
the  threatened  monarchy. 

Again,  after  the  Union  was  more  or  less 
firmly  established,  there  were  still  other  trou 
bles.  Those  politicians  who  had  opposed  such 
a  close  centralization  became  the  Anti-Feder 
alists  or  Democratic  party,  led  by  Thomas 
Jefferson  and  Aaron  Burr;  while  those  who 
took  the  opposite  view  formed  the  Federalists, 
led  by  Washington,  Hamilton,  Madison,  and 
Jay.  The  Hartford  Wits,  for  the  most  part, 
had  been  and  remained  true  to  Washington, 
and  therefore  to  his  party.  Here  indeed  was 
an  opportunity  for  the  display  of  peppery  wit. 
Then,  too,  those  great  events  across  the  waters ; 
Napoleon  and  Nelson  were  before  the  eyes  of 
the  world ;  a  deadly  conflict  between  monarchy 
and  democracy  was  on ;  and  the  Hartford  Wits 
felt  called  upon  to  encourage  or  discourage  as 
the  spirit  moved  them.  When  all  these  topics 
grew  wearisome,  there  remained,  of  course,  one 
eternal  subject — literary  criticism.  Then  would 
they  take  up  the  discussion  of  books  and  damn 

231 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

authors  and  critics  with,  an  energy  that  would 
have  put  Dryden,  Pope,  and  Byron  to  the  blush. 
Even  supposing  that  this  theme  grew  tiresome, 
they  could  form  a  mutual  admiration  society 
and  heartily  praise  one  another. 

For  instance,  one  member  wrote  of  another 
such  lines  as  these: 

"  In  lore  of  nations  skilled,  and  brave  in  arms, 
See  Humphreys  glorious  from  the  field  retire, 
Sheathe  the  glad  sword  and  string  the  tuneful  lyre. ' ' 

And  another,  Joel  Barlow,  author  of  the  fear 
fully  and  wonderfully  constructed  Columbiad 
or  Vision  of  Columbus,  received  this  flattering 
notice: 

"  In  Virgilian  Barlow's  tuneful  lines 

With  added  splendor  great  Columbus  shines. " 

What  with  rebuking  Harvard  sceptics,  fighting 
in  the  field,  ridiculing  Tories,  scolding  tax 
payers,  opposing  dishonest  currency,  condemn 
ing  extravagant  debts,  encouraging  the  de 
mands  of  soldiers,  explaining  the  intentions  of 
the  Cincinnati  Society,  lashing  mobs,  dis 
couraging  State  independence,  supporting  cen 
tralization,  silencing  "  spread-eagle  "  orators, 
squelching  fire-eating  Jacobins,  scourging  Anti- 

232 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Federalists,  commenting  on  foreign  affairs, 
pooh-poohing  critics,  and  praising  one  another, 
thes/e  Hartford  Wits  had  about  all  they  could 
well  attend  to.  But,  in  all  seriousness,  they  came 
in  answer  to  a  need  of  the  struggling  era,  and 
Barrett  Wendell  is  entirely  correct  when  he 
says  in  his  History  of  Literature  in  America; 
"An  heroic,  patriotic  effort  they  stand  for,  and 
one  made  with  enthusiasm,  wit,  and  courage." 
Undoubtedly  they  helped  to  an  appreciable 
degree  in  the  preservation  of  the  nation.  When 
it  seemed  that  the  petty  jealousies  of  the  sepa 
rate  colonies  would  effectually  prevent  a  sound 
and  permanent  union,  these  writers  in  their 
serial  poem,  The  Anarchiad  (1786-7),  placed 
before  the  people  this  all-important  question: 

"  Shall  lordly  Hudson  part  contending  powers, 
And  broad  Potomac  lave  two  hostile  shores? 
Must  Alleghany's  sacred  summits  bear 
The  impious  bulwarks  of  perpetual  war, 
His  hundred  streams  receive  your  heroes  slain 
And  bear  your  sons  inglorious  to  the  Main?  " 

It  is  evident  that  these  wits  were  sometimes 
very  serious.  Note  again  some  lines  from  The 
Anarchiad  on  that  same  momentous  question: 
Shall  we  be  one  nation  or  many? 

233 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Behold  those  veterans  worn  with  want  and  care, 
Their  sinews  stiffened,  silvered  o'er  their  hair, 
Weak  in  their  steps  of  age,  they  move  forlorn, 
Their  toils  forgotten  by  the  sons  of  scorn; 
This  hateful  truth  still  aggravates  the  pain, 
In  vain  they  conquered,  and  they  bled  in  vain. 

For  see,  proud  Faction  waves  her  flaming  brand, 
And  discord  riots  o'er  the  ungrateful  land; 

In  honor's  seat  the  sons  of  meanness  swarm, 
And  senates  base  the  work  of  mobs  perform, 
To  wealth,  to  power  the  sons  of  union  rise, 
While  foes  deride  you  and  while  friends  despise. 

Go  view  the  lands  to  lawless  power  a  prey, 
Where  tyrants  govern  with  unbounded  sway; 
See  the  long  pomp  in  gorgeous  state  displayed, 
The  tinselled  guards,  the  squadroned  horse  parade ; 

High  on  the  moving  throne,  and  near  the  van, 
The  tyrant  rides,  the  chosen  scourge  of  man; 
Clarions  and  flutes  and  drums  his  way  prepare, 
And  shouting  millions  rend  the  conscious  air; 
Millions  whose  ceaseless  toils  the  pomp  sustain, 
Whose  hour  of  stupid  joy  repays  an  age  of  pain. 

Nor  less  abhorred  the  certain  woe  that  waits 
The  giddy  rage  of  democratic  states; 


234 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Led  by  wild  demagogues  the  factious  crowd, 

Mean,  fierce,  imperious,  insolent,  and  loud, 

Nor  fame  nor  wealth,  nor  power  nor  system  draws, 

They  see  no  object  and  perceive  no  cause, 

But  feel  by  turns,  in  one  disastrous  hour, 

The  extremes  of  license  and  the  extremes  of  power. ' ' 

But  this  is  not  the  sort  of  work  in  which  they 
found  the  greatest  delight  or  in  which  they 
most  excelled.  They  enjoyed  more  thoroughly 
such  exercise  as  Dwight's  description  of  the 
mild  and  sweetly  polite  Harvard  preacher  men 
tioned  above,  or  that  description  by  Lemuel 
Hopkins  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  posed  as  a 
pretty  accurate  scholar  on  everything  from 
Anglo-Saxon  to  vaccination: 

"  Great  sire  of  stories  past  belief; 
Historian  of  the  Mingo  chief; 
Philosopher  of  Indians'  hair; 
Inventor  of  a  rocking-chair ; 
The  correspondent  of  Mazze, 
And  Banneker  less  black  than  he !  " 

How  they  loved  to  poke  fun  at  the  versatile 
sage  of  Monticello!  Upon  taking  the  oath  of 
office  for  the  second  time,  March  4,  1805,  Jef 
ferson  said  in  his  inaugural  address:  "  On 
taking  this  station  on  a  former  occasion,  I  de- 

235 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

clared  the  principle  on  which  I  believed  it  my 
duty  to  administer  the  affairs  of  our  common 
wealth.  My  conscience  tells  me  that  I  have,  on 
every  occasion,  acted  up  to  that  declaration, 
according  to  its  obvious  import  and  to  the  un 
derstanding  of  every  candid  mind."  This  was 
indeed  an  opportunity  for  the  men  of  Hartford, 
and  they  grasped  it  while  it  was  hot.  Forth 
with  appeared  a  burlesque — the  inaugural  re 
marks  of  one,  Jefferson: 

"  'Tis  just  four  years  this  all-eventful  day, 

Since  on  my  head  devolved  our  country's  sway. 

You  will  remember  with  what  modest  air 
I  first  approached  the  Presidential  Chair, 
How  blushed  my  cheek,  what  faltering  in  my  gait, 
When  first  I  squatted  on  the  throne  of  state ! 

A  foolish  custom  forced  me  to  declare 
Off-hand  what  point  of  compass  I  should  steer; 
But  knowing  well  that  every  Federal  eye 
On  me  was  fixed  some  mischief  to  descry, 
I  tuned  my  fiddle  for  the  vulgar  throng, 
And  lulled  suspicion  by  a  soothing  song." 

He  asked  his  conscience  if  he  had  broken  the 
promises  of  four  years  ago.  Conscience  an 
swered  that  he  had  not. 

236 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

"  '  Thus,  when  you  promised  to  be  just  and  true 
To  all  and  give  to  every  man  his  due, 
Could  Candor  possibly  have  understood 
That  the  term  all  men  could  your  foes  include  ? 

Nor  shall  the  Federalists,  perverse  and  base, 

On  grounds  like  these  lay  claim  to  hold  their  place. 

Again,  when  toleration  was  your  theme, 

What  stupid  mortal  could  a  moment  dream 

You  meant  to  drop  at  once  your  choicest  grace, 

The  right  to  turn  the  Federalists  from  place? 

Now,  Sir,  since  I  have  set  all  matters  right, 
Conscience  will  bid  the  President  good-night.'  3 

The  effusions  of  the  Hartford  Wits  may  be 
divided  into  three  sections.  The  first  series 
of  these  satires  and  other  poems,  consisting  in 
all  of  twenty-four  installments,  was  entitled 
The  Anarcliiad,  and  dealt  with  the  ruffian  ele 
ment  in  the  lower  classes  and  the  subtle  enemies 
of  union  in  the  upper  classes.  These  contri 
butions,  as  well  as  some  of  those  in  the  other 
sections,  were  published  in  The  Neiv  Haven 
Gazette,  and  appeared  in  1786  and  1787.  Now, 
you  must  know  that  these  Yale  men  had  con, 
siderable  romance  in  their  souls ;  therefore  we 
should  not  expect  them  to  thrust  these  literary 
efforts  upon  the  world  without  some  piquant 

237 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

flavor  of  the  wonderful  and  mysterious.  No, 
indeed;  it  was  solemnly  stated  that  The 
Anarchiad  had  been  dug  up  from  the  exceed 
ingly  ancient  ruins  of  an  Indian  fort,  where 
Madoc,  a  Welshman,  who  discovered  America 
ages  before  Columbus  had  thought  of  being 
born,  had  buried  the  manuscript.  It  simply 
shows  how  surprisingly  appropriate  prophecies 
and  advice  intended  for  remote  antiquity  often 
times  are  for  the  present  moment;  for  these 
venerable  hammerings  of  Madoc  hit  the 
eighteenth  century  nail  squarely  on  the  head. 
Anarch,  the  leader  of  the  forces  of  confusion 
and  ruin,  which  forces  are,  of  course,  the  Anti- 
Federalists,  urges  all  kinds  of  dangerous 
actions. 

"  Stab  Independence!  dance  o'er 
Freedom's  grave!  " 

What  else  did  these  Democrats  desire  but  the 
reign  of  confusion  in  the  newly  created 
nations  1 

11  The  State  surrounding  with  the  wall  of  brass, 
And  insurrections  claim  thy  noblest  praise, 
O  'er  Washington  exact  thy  darling  Shays, 
With  thy  contagion  embryo  mobs  inspire, 
And  blow  to  tenfold  rage  the  kindling  fire, 
Till  the  wide  realm  of  discord  bow  the  knee 
And  hold  true  faith  in  Anarch  and  in  thee." 
238 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

The  second  section  of  the  Hartford  utter 
ances  was  the  series  known  as  The  Echo,  the 
first  poem  of  which  appeared  in  the  American 
Mercury  of  August,  1791,  and  the  last  in  1796. 
Written  almost  entirely  by  Richard  Alsop  and 
Theodore  Dwight,  a  brother  of  Timothy,  it 
mocked  or  "  echoed  "  with  multiplied  rever 
berations  the  bombast  and  other  exaggerations 
of  the  day.  As  the  Duyckincks  say  in  their 
Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature,  "  If  a 
penny-a-liner  grew  more  maudlin  and  drunken 
in  his  style  than  usual ;  if  an  office-holder  played 
his  '  fantastic  tricks, '  a  politician  vapored,  or  a 
scientific  pretender  bored  the  public  with  his 
ignorance,  or  a  French  democratic  procession 
moved  at  the  heels  of  Genet,  it  was  sure  to  be 
heard  of  from  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut." 
From  this  more  general  purpose,  however,  the 
poem  passed  to  the  more  specific  and  far  more 
bitter  one  of  ridiculing  the  Democrats  on  every 
possible  occasion.  We  have  seen  how  Jeffer 
son  and  his  inaugural  address  of  1805  were 
treated ;  the  eccentric  John  Hancock,  the  rough 
and  ready  frontiersman  Hugh  Brackenridge, 
and  many  another  Anti-Federalist,  received 
just  as  merciless  consideration. 

239 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Leave  us  our  Clinton,  Jefferson  and  Co, 
These  shall  arouse  us  in  the  daily  papers, 
And  Jonny  Hancock  give  us  Negroe  capers. " 

Every  political  move,  no  matter  how  honest  its 
intention,  was  liable  to  attack;  thus  with  Jay's 
Treaty: 

"  I  say  that  we've  determined,  one  and  all, 

That  Jay's  vile  treaty  to  the  ground  shall  fall. 
Doubtless  the  subject  will  much  heat  excite, 
Blockheads  will  prate,  and  demagogues  will  write, 
From  Club  to  Club  the  uproar  will  expand. 

Full  well  I  see  how  Democrats  will  meet, 
And  drink  seditious  toasts  at  every  treat, 
Roar  out  to  liberty  to  save  the  land, 
And  damn  a  treaty  they  don't  understand." 

Fear  of  the  French  and  of  their  ultra-demo 
cratic  notions  was  abroad  in  the  land,  and  such 
lines  as  the  following,  known  to  have  been  writ 
ten  by  Lemuel  Hopkins,  must  have  gained  the 
applause  of  all  good  Federalists : 

"  See  fraught  with  democratic  lore, 
Genet  arriv'd  on  Charleston  shore. 
But,  as  was  meet,  first  broach 'd  his  mission 
To  men  of  sans-culotte  condition; 
Who  thronged  around  with  open  throats, 
As  round  old  Crusoe  flock 'd  the  goats, 
240 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

And  learn 'd  his  sermon,  to  his  wishes, 
As  Austin  taught  huge  shoals  of  fishes; 
Made  all  the  anti-federal  presses 
Screech  shrill  hosannas,  styl'd  addresses; 
And  while  to  Court  he  took  his  way 
Sung  hallelujahs  to  Genet; 

Like  Hessian  flies,  import 'd  o'er, 
Clubs  self -create  infest  our  shore. " 

As  we  have  noted,  however,  these  satires 
were  not  intended  solely  for  political  purposes. 
Anything  extravagant  was  a  sufficient  incen 
tive  for  a  sarcastic  broadside.  For  instance, 
it  seems  that  a  Boston  newspaper  attempted  in 
July,  1791,  to  give  a  poetic  description  of  a 
storm  occurring  there,  and  the  result  was  a 
poetic  "  echo,"  from  which  the  following  lines 
are  taken: 

"  On  Tuesday  last  great  Sol,  with  piercing  eye, 
Pursued  his  journey  thro'  the  vaulted  sky, 
And  in  his  car  effulgent  roll  'd  his  way 
Four  hours  beyond  the  burning  zone  of  day; 
When  lo!  a  cloud,  o'er  shadowing  all  the  plain, 
From  countless  pores  perspir'd  a  liquid  rain, 
While  from  its  cracks  the  lightnings  made  a  peep, 
And  chit-chat  thunders  rock'd  our  fears  asleep. 
But  soon  the  vapory  fog  dispersed  in  air, 
And  left  the  azure  blue-eyed  concave  bare ; 
16  241 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Even  the  last  drop  of  hope,  which  dripping  skies 
Gave  for  a  moment  to  our  straining  eyes, 
Like  Boston  Rum,  from  heaven 's  junk  bottles  broke, 
Lost  all  the  corks,  and  vanished  into  smoke. 
But  swift,  from  worlds  unknown,  a  fresh  supply 
Of  vapor  dimm'd  the  great  horizon's  eye; 

The  seen  and  unseen  worlds  grew  dark,  and  nature 
'gan  to  weep. 

Majestic  thunders,  with  disploding  roar, 
And  sudden  crashing,  bounced  along  the  shore, 
Till,  lost  in  other  lands,  the  whispering  sound 
Fled  from  our  ears  and  fainted  on  the  ground. 

N.B.     At  Cambridge  town,  the  self -same  day, 
A  barn  was  burnt  well-fuTd  with  hay. 
Some  say  the  lightning  turned  it  red, 
Some  say  the  thunder  struck  it  dead, 
Some  say  it  made  the  cattle  stare, 
And  some  it  kill'd  an  aged  mare; 
But  we  expect  the  truth  to  learn 
From  Mr.  Wythe,  who  own'd  the  barn." 

The  third  section  of  the  Hartford  serial 
tirade  was  entitled  The  Political  Green  House, 
and  appeared  in  1799.  It  is  for  the  most  part 
a  review  of  the  previous  year,  and  uses  the 
various  important  events  of  those  twelve 

242 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

months  as  a  means  of  attacking  Jefferson  and 
all  Jacobins.  Here,  too,  is  found  an  attack 
upon  one  of  their  own  Wits,  Joel  Barlow,  who 
is  accused  of  stealing  parts  of  the  Anarchiad 
for  his  Conspiracy  of  Kings.  As  Barlow  had 
written  no  small  part  of  the  Anarcliiad,  doubt 
less  he  thought  he  might  borrow  his  own;  but 
the  Green  House  writer,  probably  Alsop,  de 
clares  it  "  a  prominent  trait  of  the  Jacobinical 
character  to  take  what  belongs  to  others,  with 
out  leave  and  without  paying  for  it."  All 
measures  against  the  French  receive  hearty 
praise;  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Law  is  a  joy 
forever;  while  Vermont,  in  running  all  the 
Jacobins  out  of  office,  has  become  an  earthly 
Paradise. 

Now,  in  1807,  The  Echo  and  The  Political 
Green  House,  with  a  poem  entitled  A  Poetico- 
Political  Olio,  consisting  of  extracts  from 
Democracy,  an  Epic  Poem,  were  published  as 
one  volume  with  the  title,  The  Echo  ivith  Other 
Poems.  (The  "general  reader"  may,  of 
course,  skip  all  such  dry  facts  and  dates  if  he 
finds  them  uninteresting;  they  are  intended  for 
those  unfortunates  who  occupy  college  chairs 
of  literature  and  who  must  gather  vast  masses 

243 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

of  minute  details  in  order  to  astonish  their  awe- 
stricken  students.)  But  to  resume:  The  Echo 
and  The  Political  Green  House  thus  printed  to 
gether  enjoyed  considerable  vogue  long  after 
the  disturbances  that  created  them  had  been 
forever  settled;  and  doubtless  this  later  enter 
tainment  was  more  whole-souled  than  in  the 
old  days  when  Anti-Federalists,  reading  these 
roughly  printed  sheets,  found  themselves  han 
dled  without  gloves. 

But  all  America  knows  that  those  Federal 
ists  fought  a  losing  battle  and  that  the  Demo 
crats,  with  Jefferson  as  leader,  turned  the  tide 
of  the  American  political  sea.  And  it  seems 
that  the  Hartford  Wits  also  knew  it;  for  toward 
the  last  the  satire  was  not  so  stinging  as  in 
earlier  days,  the  laughter  was  not  so  whole 
hearted,  and  now  and  again  the  poets  seemed 
to  be  asking  themselves,  ' '  How  will  the  people 
take  this?  "  Like  most  mortals,  they  at  length 
began  to  have  opposing  opinions,  grew  discour 
aged  or  uninterested,  and  gave  it  up ;  and  thus 
the  Hartford  Wits,  as  a  ~body,  died  a  natural 
death.  But,  as  individuals,  they  were  rather 
lively  corpses  for  some  years  after  their  fra 
ternity  or  club  had  been  interred. 

244 


II 


And  now,  of  course  the  most  natural  ques 
tion  in  the  world  at  this  juncture  would  be, 
"  Who  were  these  wits  as  individuals?  "  In 
the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century  Hart 
ford  and  New  Haven  had  some  very  brilliant 
citizens,  and  the  "  Wits  "  were  the  cream  of 
the  milk.  Originally  this  fine  fellowship  or 
junto  consisted  of  probably  only  four  members, 
Timothy  Dwight,  John  Trumbull,  David 
Humphreys,  and  Joel  Barlow;  but  toward  the 
close  of  the  war  days  such  men  entered  the 
circle  as  Dr.  Lemuel  Hopkins,  Richard  Alsop, 
and  Theodore  Dwight,  and  these,  with  occa 
sional  aid  from  two  or  three  other  citizens  of 
Connecticut,  made  things  lively.  Here  Words 
worth  might  have  written  another  "  We  are 
Seven;  "  he  could  not  have  selected  seven  more 
active,  brainy,  and  versatile  characters  in  all 
America.  Let  us  glance  at  the  varied  and  use 
ful  lives  of  them  all,  and,  at  the  same  time,  as 
we  have  seen  what  they  could  do  as  a  whole,  let 

245 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

us  see  what  each  could  do  as  an  individual 
writer. 

TIMOTHY  DWIGHT 

Timothy  Dwight  has  small  right  to  appear 
in  this  or  any  other  book  of  humor;  and  he  is 
mentioned  here  with  the  Wits  mainly  because 
in  his  younger  days  he  wrote  lines  against 
Harvard  sinfulness,  and  encouraged  and  some 
times  aided  these  verse-writers  dwelling  in  or 
near  Hartford  town.  His  humorous  verse, 
however,  was  very  meagre,  and  should  always 
have  been  labelled  clearly.  His  forte  lay  in  pro 
ducing  an  epic  containing  nine  thousand,  six 
hundred  and  seventy-two  never  read  lines  en 
titled  The  Conquest  of  Canaan.  Another  poem 
of  his,  Greenfield  Hill,  is  shorter  and  therefore 
no  worse.  Then,  too,  every  school-boy  knows 
that  he  wrote  the  once  admired  Ode  to  Colum 
bia,  beginning, 

"  Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise!  " 

but  no  school-boy  wades  through  it  unless  a 
merciless  teacher  condemns  him  to  the  ordeal. 
As  we  all  know,  Dr.  Dwight  at  length  became 
president  of  Yale,  preached  many  solemn  and 

246 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

elongated  sermons,  and  at  last,  full  of  years, 
honors,  and  theology,  returned  unto  his  fathers. 

DAVID  HUMPHREYS 

John  Trumhull  we  have  already  discussed. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  discern  the  flavor  of  his 
satire  throughout  The  Anarchiad  and  the  other 
works  of  the  group ;  for  now  and  then  one  comes 
across  lines  that  could  have  dropped  from  no 
other  pen  of  the  day.  A  man  who  was  often  at 
his  side,  and  who  with  him  penned  many  a 
sharp  verse,  was  Colonel  David  Humphreys 
(1753-1818),  soldier,  diplomatist,  wit,  and 
genial  gentleman.  His  was  a  life  lived  to  tfye 
brim.  Born  at  Derby,  Connecticut,  he  gradu 
ated  at  Yale,  entered  the  Eevolutionary  Army 
as  a  captain,  and  served  from  1780  until  the 
close  of  the  strife  as  aide-de-camp  to  Washing 
ton.  The  friendship  that  existed  between  the 
wit  and  the  great  general  became  a  tie  that 
bound  them  closely  until  death.  For  months 
at  a  time  Humphreys  lived  at  Mt.  Vernon,  and 
he  and  Washington  always  acted  like  brothers. 
That  he  was  a  brave  warrior  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  Congress  presented  him  with  a  sword 
for  gallantry  at  Yorktown;  and  that  he  was  a 
firm  believer  in  the  rights  of  the  struggling 

247 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

people  is  evidenced  by  his  Address  to  the  Armies 
of  the  United  States  (1782)— which,  by  the  way, 
you  will  be  spared  here,  as  its  length  is  one 
of  its  most  conspicuous  characteristics. 

After  his  service  in  the  army,  he  held  the 
important  position  of  secretary  of  the  legation 
— Jefferson,  Franklin,  and  Adams — at  Paris, 
and  while  thus  employed  wrote  another  widely 
noticed  poem — a  thousand  lines  this  time — on 
the  "  Happiness  of  America."  It  contains 
some  well  turned  verses,  as  may  be  seen  from 
the  following: 

"  There  some  old  warrior,  grown  a  village  sage, 
Whose  locks  are  whitened  with  the  frosts  of  age, 
While  life's  low-burning  lamp  renews  its  light, 
With  tales  heroic  shall  beguile  the  night ; 
Shall  tell  of  battles  fought,  of  feats  achieved, 
And  sufferings  ne'er  by  human  heart  conceived 

Troops  strive  with  troops ;  ranks,  bending,  press  on 

ranks ; 

0  'er  slippery  plains  the  struggling  legions  reel ; 
Then  livid  lead  and  Burgoyne's  glittering  steel 
With  dark-red  wounds  their  mangled  bosoms  bore; 
While  furious  coursers,  snorting  foam  and  gore, 
Bear  wild  their  riders  o'er  the  carnaged  plain, 
And,  falling,  roll  them  headlong  on  the  slain. 


248 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Thus  will  the  veteran  tell  the  tale  of  wars, 
Disclose  his  breast,  to  count  his  glorious  scars; 
In  mute  amazement  hold  the  listening  swains ; 
Make  freezing  horror  creep  through  all  their  veins ; 
Or  oft,  at  freedom 's  name,  their  souls  inspire 
With  patriot  ardor  and  heroic  fire." 

In  those  days  ability  to  write  meant  advance 
ment  in  the  political  world,  and  consequently  in 
1786  we  see  Humphreys  a  member  of  the  State 
Legislature.  Soon,  however,  he  was  back  at 
Mt.  Vernon,  translating  de  Mierre 's  The  Widow 
of  Malabar,  to  be  acted  by  Hallam's  American 
Company  at  Philadelphia  in  1790.  In  1794  he 
became  our  first  ambassador  to  Lisbon ;  in  1797 
he  was  made  minister  to  Spain;  and  in  1802 
he  returned  to  America,  and  henceforth  devoted 
much  of  his  time  to  introducing  merino  sheep 
into  the  Xew  World.  He  became  decidedly  in 
terested  in  this  sheep  industry,  and  even  wrote 
a  poem  about  it,  in  the  course  of  which  he  says : 

"  Oh,  might  my  guidance  from  the  downs  of  Spain 
Lead  a  white  flock  across  the  western  main; 
Fam'd  like  the  bark  that  bore  the  Argonaut 
Should  be  the  vessel  with  the  burden  fraught! 
Clad  in  the  raiment  my  Merinos  yield, 
Like  C-incinnatus  fed  from  my  own  field ; 
Far  from  ambition,  grandeur,  care,  and  strife, 
249 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

In  sweet  fruition  of  domestic  life ; 

There  would  I  pass  with  friends  beneath  my  trees, 

What  rests  from  public  life;  in  letter 'd  ease." 

Although  sixty  years  old  when  the  War  of  1812 
began,  he  entered  the  army  as  a  brigadier-gen 
eral,  and  served  throughout  the  campaign. 
Thus  his  days  until  his  death  at  New  Haven  six 
years  later  were  full  of  activity  and  reward. 

Humphreys  was  not  a  strikingly  original 
man ;  but  he  had  energy  and  perseverance,  and 
he  could  polish  a  line  or  add  a  sharp  word  or 
two  to  the  pointed  verses  of  his  colleagues.  It 
would  not  be  of  special  interest  to  try  to  point 
out  just  what  Humphreys  did  or  did  not  write 
in  the  various  poems  of  the  Hartford  Wits. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  it  could  not  be  done.  But, 
if  you  would  see  a  specimen  of  his  individual 
wit,  here  are  some  lines  from  The  Monkey, 
"  who  shaved  himself  and  his  friends. " 

"  A  man  who  own'd  a  barber's  shop 
At  York,  and  shaved  full  many  a  fop, 
A  monkey  kept  for  his  amusement; 
He  made  no  other  kind  of  use  on't 


"  It  chanc'd  in  shop,  the  dog  and  cat, 
While  friseur  din'd,  demurely  sat, 
250 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Jacko  found  naught  to  play  the  knave  in, 
So  thought  he'd  try  his  hand  at  shaving. 
Around  the  shop  in  haste  he  rushes, 
And  gets  the  razors,  soap,  and  brushes ; 
Now  puss  he  fix'd  (no  muscle  stirs) 
And  lather  'd  well  her  beard  and  whiskers, 
Then  gave  a  gash,  as  he  began — 
The  cat  cry  'd  *  waugh !  '  and  off  she  ran. 

* '  Next  Towser  's  beard  he  tried  his  skill  in, 
Though  Towser  seemed  somewhat  unwilling: 
As  badly  here  again  succeeding, 
The  dog  runs  howling  round,  and  bleeding. 

"  Nor  yet  was  tir'd  our  roguish  elf; 
He'd  seen  the  barber  shave  himself; 
So  by  the  glass  upon  the  table, 
He  rubs  with  soap  his  visage  sable, 
Then  with  left  hand  holds  smooth  his  jaw, — 
The  razor  in  his  dexter  paw; 
Around  he  flourishes  and  slashes, 
Till  all  his  face  is  seam'd  with  gashes. 
His  cheeks  dispatch 'd — his  visage  thin 
He  cock  'd,  to  shave  beneath  his  chin ; 
Drew  razor  swift  as  he  could  pull  it, 
And  cut,  from  ear  to  ear,  his  gullet. 

Moral 

"  Who  cannot  write,  yet  handle  pens, 
Are  apt  to  hurt  themselves  and  friends. 
Though  others  use  them  well,  yet  fools 
Should  never  meddle  with  edge  tools." 
251 


Ill 


JOEL  BARLOW 

Of  all  the  Hartford  Wits,  excluding  John 
Trumbull,  doubtless  the  best  known  in  our  day 
is  Joel  Barlow  (1754-1812).  Who  has  not  read 
his  Hasty  Pudding? 

11  I  sing  the  sweets  I  know,  the  charms  I  feel, 
My  morning  incense  and  my  evening  meal, 
The  sweets  of  Hasty  Pudding." 

It  is  interesting  to  see  what  a  poetic  product 
he  could  make  out  of  such  a  subject  as  "  mush  " 
and  out  of  many  other  subjects  no  less  prosaic ; 
but  his  life,  it  would  seem,  is  far  more  interest 
ing  than  anything  he  wrote.  How  manifold 
were  his  activities,  how  romantic  his  advent 
ures,  and  how  miserable  his  end!  He  was 
born  at  Reading,  Connecticut,  and  was  edu 
cated  at  Dartmouth  and  at  Yale.  When  he 
received  his  B.A.  from  the  latter  college  in 
1778,  he  read  as  the  class-poem,  The  Prospect 
of  Peace,  verses  full  of  patriotism  and  unusual 
benevolence  toward  all  nations.  In  1781  he  re- 

252 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

ceived  the  M.A.  from  his  alma  mater.  But 
during  his  vacations  Barlow  had  spent  his  lei 
sure  time  fighting  the  British,  and  the  taste  of 
army  life  thus  experienced  so  pleased  him  that 
he  studied  theology  six  weeks  and  entered  the 
ranks  as  a  chaplain  some  months  before  receiv 
ing  the  master's  degree.  After  the  Revolution 
he  studied  law  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at 
Hartford  in  1785.  During  that  same  year  he 
was  given  the  task  of  revising  Watts'  version 
of  the  Psalms,  and  did  it  very  acceptably,  al 
though  some  caustic  wit  of  the  day  exclaimed : 

"  You've  proved  yourself  a  sinful  cre'tur; 
You've  murdered  Watts  and  spoilt  the  meter; 
You've  tried  the  word  of  God  to  alter, 
And  for  your  pains  deserve  a  halter." 

At  Hartford  Barlow  founded  The  American 
Mercury,  in  which  The  Echo  and  other  poems 
by  the  Wits  appeared;  and  there,  too,  in  1787 
he  published  his  loud-sounding,  but  rather  tire 
some  Vision  of  Columbus.  This  vision  em 
braces  Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell,  and  all  that 
lie  therein,  and  was  considered  in  its  day 
a  marvellous  accomplishment.  The  verses 
brought  him  fame,  and  before  long  he  was  ap 
pointed  European  agent  of  the  Scioto  Land 

253 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Company.  He  opened  an  office  in  Paris,  ad 
vertised  lavishly,  and  sent  broadcast  among 
the  people  this  glowing  description  of  the  Ohio 
valley,  where  the  company's  lands  were  lo 
cated:  "  Farms  for  sale  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio,  la  belle  riviere;  the  finest  district  of  the 
United  States!  Healthful  and  delightful  of 
climate;  scarcely  any  frost  in  winter;  fertile 
soil ;  a  boundless  inland  navigation ;  magnificent 
forests  of  a  tree  from  which  sugar  flows;  ex 
cellent  fishing  and  fowling;  venison  in  abund 
ance;  no  wolves,  lions,  or  tigers;  no  taxes;  no 
military  duty.  All  these  unexampled  advan 
tages  offered  to  colonists  at  five  shillings  the 
acre!  " 

This  sounds  rather  modern,  does  it  not? 
The  company,  too,  was  modern;  it  proved  to 
be  a  fake  of  the  first  water,  and  Barlow,  be 
sieged  by  the  butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  candle 
stick  maker,  all  of  whom  wanted  their  money 
back,  was  glad  to  resign  his  position  and  look 
for  other  fields  of  labor.  He  was  not  long  in 
the  seeking.  The  French  Revolution  was  draw 
ing  near ;  the  French  people  were  full  of  excite 
ment,  and  Barlow  felt  called  upon  to  enter 
Parisian  politics.  Having  translated  Volney's 

254 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Ruins,  lie  took  it  over  to  London  for  publica 
tion,  and  while  there  wrote  his  violent  Advice 
to  the  Privileged  Classes,  a  work  which  was 
promptly  proscribed  by  the  British  govern 
ment.  Not  content  with  this,  he  composed  The 
Conspiracy  of  Kings  against  the  enemies  of 
France,  and  aroused  still  more  bitterness.  He 
became  a  member  of  the  Constitution  Society, 
was  sent  as  a  British  delegate  to  the  French 
Convention,  and  received  as  a  parting  gift  a 
present  of  one  thousand  pairs  of  shoes.  It  was 
at  this  time,  it  is  thought,  that  he  wrote  his 
Song  to  the  Guillotine: 

"  Fame,  let  thy  trumpet  sound, 
Tell  all  the  world  around — 

How  Capet  fell ; 
And  when  great  George's  poll 
Shall  in  the  basket  roll, 
Let  mercy  then  control 

The  Guillotine. 

"  When  all  the  sceptred  crew 
Have  paid  their  homage  to 

The  Guillotine; 
Let  freedom's  flag  advance, 
Till  all  the  world,  like  France! 
O'er  tyrants'  graves  shall  dance, 
And  peace  begin." 
255 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

In  Paris  lie  became  a  speculator,  gained 
great  wealth,  lived  like  a  king,  and  widened 
the  sphere  of  his  political  power.  His  coun 
try,  recognizing  his  diplomatic  qualities,  chose 
him  as  consul  to  Algiers  from  1795  to  1797,  and 
there  he  rendered  valuable  service  in  liberating 
American  prisoners  and  making  with  the  neigh 
boring  petty  powers  treaties  then  considered 
advantageous  but  now  looked  upon  as  disgrace 
ful. 

By  1805  Barlow  had  returned  to  America. 
Jefferson  received  him  with  open  arms ;  he  was 
hailed  as  a  shrewd  diplomat;  and  his  verses 
convinced  the  people  that  he  was  no  less  a  poet. 
His  immense  and  unwieldly  Columbiad  and  his 
Hasty  Pudding,  the  latter  prepared  during  his 
active  work  in  France,  found  a  multitude  of 
readers.  His  affairs  were  indeed  prosperous. 
Having  built  a  splendid  home  in  Washington, 
he  hovered  about  the  powers  that  were,  with 
the  result  that  in  1811  he  was  appointed  minis 
ter  to  France.  Now  came  the  closing  scene. 
Napoleon  requested  a  conference  with  him  at 
Wilna ;  then  occurred  the  retreat  from  Moscow ; 
and  Barlow,  necessarily  involved  in  it,  followed 
the  army  until  one  evening  in  a  little  Polish  vil 
lage  his  strength  failed  him  and  he  died  in 

256 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

wretchedness.  How  bitterly  he  felt  the  disas 
ter  and  how  scornfully  he  regarded  Napoleon 
we  may  judge  from  his  last  poem,  dictated  as 
he  lay  on  his  death-bed  in  that  bleak,  starving, 
snow-covered  town: 

Advice  to  a  Raven  in  Russia. 

"  Black  fool,  why  winter  here?     These  frozen  skies, 
Worn  by  your  wings  and  deafened  by  your  cries, 
Should  warn  you  hence,  where  milder  suns  invite, 
And  Day  alternates  with  his  mother  Night. 
You  fear,  perhaps,  your  food  will  fail  you  there — 
Your  human  carnage,  that  delicious  fare, 
That  lured  you  hither,  following  still  your  friend, 
The  great  Napoleon,  to  the  world 's  bleak  end. 

You  fear  he  left  behind  no  wars  to  feed 
His   feather 'd   cannibals   and   nurse   the  breed. 
Fear  not,  my  screamer,  call  your  greedy  train, 
Sweep  over  Europe,  hurry  back  to  Spain — 
You  11  find  his  legions  there,  the  valiant  crew 
Please  best  their  master  when  they  toil  for  you. 

Choose  then  your  climate,  fix  your  best  abode — 
He'll  make  you  deserts,  he'll  bring  you  blood. 

War  after  war  his  hungry  soul  requires; 
State  after  state  shall  sink  beneath  his  fires. 

17  257 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Till  men  resume  their  souls,  and  dare  to  shed 
Earth's  total  vengeance  on  the  monster's  head!  " 

It  was  while  in  Paris  in  1793,  so  some  of  the 
accounts  say,  that  Barlow  wrote  his  yet  famous 
Hasty  Pudding;  but  it  was  not  until  1796  that 
it  was  presented  to  American  readers  through 
the  columns  of  a  New  Haven  paper.  Far  from 
home,  he  began  to  think  of  the  plain,  old-fash 
ioned  New  England  food,  and  memory  brought 
back  even  the  minute  details  of  it  all.  See  the 
note  he  appended  to  the  poem;  French  cooks 
and  French  etiquette  had  not  destroyed  his  na 
tive  simplicity;  "  There  are  various  ways  of 
preparing  and  eating  it ;  with  molasses,  butter, 
sugar,  cream,  and  fried.  Why  so  excellent  a 
thing  cannot  be  eaten  alone?  Nothing  is  per 
fect  alone,  even  man,  who  boasts  of  so  much  per 
fection,  is  nothing  without  his  fellow  substance. 
In  eating,  beware  of  the  lurking  heat  that  lies 
deep  in  the  mass ;  dip  your  spoon  gently,  take 
shallow  dips,  and  cool  it  by  degrees.  It  is 
sometimes  necessary  to  blow.  This  is  indicated 
by  certain  signs  which  every  experienced  feeder 
knows.  They  should  be  taught  to  young  begin 
ners.  I  have  known  a  child's  tongue  blistered 
for  want  of  this  attention,  and  then  the  school- 

258 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

dame  would  insist  that  the  poor  thing  had  told 
a  lie.  ...  A  prudent  mother  will  cool  it  for 
her  child  with  her  own  sweet  breath.  The  hus 
band,  seeing  this,  pretends  his  own  wants  blow 
ing  too  from  the  same  lips.  A  sly  deceit  of 
love.  She  knows  the  cheat,  but  feigning 
ignorance,  lends  her  pouting  lips  and  gives  a 
gentle  blast,  which  warms  the  husband's  heart 
more  than  it  cools  the  pudding. " 

The  poem  itself  is  in  three  stately  cantos, 
with  here  an  echo  of  Dryden  and  there  an  echo 
of  Pope, — very  distant  echoes,  however,  it  must 
be  admitted.  And  yet,  the  mock  heroic  strain 
is  well  sustained  throughout.  The  old  saying 
goes  thus :  ' '  The  proof  of  the  pudding  is  the 
eating  of  it;  "  therefore,  test  for  yourself  the 
flavor  of  Hasty  Pudding: 

"Oh!  could  the  smooth,  the  emblematic  song 
Flow  like  thy  genial  juices  o'er  my  tongue, 
Could  those  mild  morsels  in  my  numbers  chime, 
And,  as  they  roll  in  substance,  roll  in  rhyme, 
No  more  thy  awkward  unpoetic  name 
Should  shun  the  muse  or  prejudice  thy  fame; 
But  rising  grateful  to  the  accustom 'd  ear, 
All  bards  should  catch  it,  and  all  realms  revere! 


259 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Dear  Hasty  Pudding,  what  unpromised  joy 
Expands  my  heart,  to  meet  thee  in  Savoy ! 
Doom'd  o'er  the  world  through  devious  paths  to 

roam, 

Each  clime  my  country  and  each  house  my  home, 
My  soul  is  soothed,  my  cares  have  found  an  end, 
I  greet  my  long  lost,  unforgotten  friend. 
For  thee  through  Paris,  that  corrupted  town, 
How  long  in  vain  I  wandered  up  and  down, 
Where  shameless  Bacchus,  with  his  drenching  hoard, 
Cold  from  his  cave  usurps  the  morning  board. 
London  is  lost  in  smoke  and  steep 'd  in  tea; 
No  Yankee  there  can  lisp  the  name  of  thee ; 
The  uncouth  word,  a  libel  on  the  town, 
Would  call  a  proclamation  from  the  crown. " 

And  see  what  results  come  from  a  hasty  pud 
ding  diet.  Barlow  recognizes  the  pleasant  and 
useful  qualities  of  other  items  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom ;  but,  after  all,  what  can  compare  with 
corn? 

"  My  song  resounding  in  its  grateful  glee, 
No  merit  claims :  I  praise  myself  in  thee. 
My  father  loved  thee  through  his  length  of  days ! 
For  thee  his  fields  were  shaded  o  'er  with  maize ; 
From  thee  what  health,  what  vigor  he  possess 'd, 
Ten  sturdy  freemen  from  his  loins  attest; 
Thy  constellation  ruled  my  natal  morn, 
And  all  my  bones  were  made  of  Indian  corn.  ' J 

The  simplicity  of    New  England  life,  he  de- 

260 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

clares,  has  been  the  salvation  of  the  nation; 
and  Hasty  Pudding  is  the  symbol  of  that  sim 
plicity. 

"  To  mix  the  food  by  vicious  rules  of  art, 
To  kill  the  stomach,  and  to  sink  the  heart, 
To  make  mankind  to  social  virtue  sour, 
Cram  o'er  each  dish,  and  be  what  they  devour; 
For  this  the  kitchen  muse  first  fram'd  her  book, 
Commanding  sweats  to  stream  from  every  cook; 
Children  no  more  their  antic  gambols  tried, 
And  friends  to  physic  wonder 'd  why  they  died. 
Not  so  the  Yankee — his  abundant  feast, 
With  simples  furnish 'd  and  with  plainness  drest, 
A  numerous  offspring  gathers  round  the  board, 
And  cheers  alike  the  servant  and  the  lord; 
Whose  well-bought  hunger  prompts  the  joyous  taste, 
And  health  attends  them  from  the  short  repast." 

Here,  then,  is  an  embryo  Snowbound  or  Cot 
ter's  Saturday  Night, — rude,  but  energetic, 
with  true  though  humble  descriptions,  and  a 
quiet  humor  that  makes  the  poem  throughout 
a  decidedly  pleasant  piece  of  reading.  Bar 
low's  sarcastic  lines  on  Englishmen  and  Tories 
were  undoubtedly  an  aid  to  the  American 
cause ;  but  not  by  these  will  the  future  remem 
ber  him.  Hasty  Pudding  alone  will  keep  his 
memory  green;  for  it  is 

"A  name,  a  sound  to  every  Yankee  dear." 
261 


IV 


RICHARD  ALSOP 

Of  the  other  leading  spirits  among  the  Wits, 
by  far  the  most  enthusiastic  was  Richard 
Alsop  (1761-1815).  In  fact,  Alsop  was,  after 
a  time,  the  very  genius  and  life  of  the  endeavor. 
A  versatile  fellow,  acquainted  with  the  litera 
ture  of  several  languages,  fond  of  outdoor  life, 
something  of  a  naturalist,  quick  and  varied  in 
conversation,  fond  of  every  phase  of  life,  he 
was  a  person  of  interest  to  all  kinds  and  con 
ditions  of  men. 

He  early  became  interested  in  the  efforts  of 
his  fellow  Yale  graduates,  helped  write  the 
first  number  of  The  Echo  in  1791,  and  was  busy 
in  this  sort  of  "  well  doing  "  until  its  close  in 
1805.  His  Poem:  Sacred  to  the  Memory  of 
George  Washington  (1809)  was  widely  read, 
while  a  number  of  translations  added  to  his 
fame, — especially  his  Enchanted  Lake  of  the 
Fairy  Morgana  (1806),  which,  we  are  informed, 

262 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

was  a  translation  from  the  Orlando  Inamorato 
of  Francesco  Berni.  Of  course,  the  "  gentle 
reader  "  is  acquainted  with  this  classic,  and  I 
shall  therefore  not  dwell  upon  its  merits.  Be 
sides,  I  have  not  read  it,  and  might  make  some 
misleading  statements.  I  might  discuss,  also, 
his  Charms  of  Fancy;  but  asi  it  extends  through 
five  books,  doubtless  the  reader  will  be  charmed 
to  have  it  left  to  his  own  fancy. 

In  spite,  however,  of  these  weighty  efforts  to 
write  masterpieces,  Richard  Alsop  was  a  nat 
ural  wit, — a  genial  humorist  who,  like  Irving, 
poked  a  gentle  sort  of  fun  at  the  follies  of  his 
day.  Perhaps,  if  it  had  been  possible,  he 
would  have  preferred  to  make  his  witticisms 
without  touching  anybody's  tender  spots;  for 
he  possessed  a  talent  for  creating  humor  for  its 
own  sake,  a  humor  that  both  friend  and  foe 
could  enjoy.  The  Newspaper  Thunder  Storm, 
quoted  in  previous  pages,  was  from  his  pen, 
and,  while  sarcastic,  there  is  in  it  nothing  of 
the  offensive  tone  so  frequently  found  in  the 
satires  of  his  era.  But,  because  Alsop  pre 
ferred  genial  humor,  we  must  not  think  him 
unable  to  fence  with  the  sharp  blade  of  wit.  In 
the  course  of  a  century  or  two,  the  Puritanism 

263 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

of  New  England  had  begun  to  thaw  into  a 
rather  cool  but  nevertheless  acceptable  liberal 
ism  ;  and  the  followers  of  Shakespeare  and  Ben 
Jonson,  always  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  open 
ing,  quietly  entered  the  land  of  the  Blue  Laws, 
and  ventured  to  give  barn-storming  theatrical 
exhibitions  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  moral 
lectures."  Governor  Hancock  was  noted  for 
his  vinegar-flavored  piety,  and  we  should  not  be 
surprised  therefore  to  learn  that  he  sent  the 
Massachusetts  Assembly  a  message  calling  at 
tention  to  the  fact  that  "  Stage  plays,  Inter 
ludes,  and  Theatrical  Entertainments  under  the 
style  and  appellation  of  l  Moral  Lectures  '  " 
were  being  presented  in  the  State,  directly  in 
defiance  of  the  ancient  laws  of  the  Common 
wealth.  This  was  on  November  8,  1792.  On 
November  10  Alsop  published  in  The  Echo  a 
long  and  witty  parody  on  the  paper.  Perhaps 
some  extracts  will  give  you  a  better  idea  of  the 
poem  and  of  the  poet  than  any  further  words 
on  my  part. 

"  A  thing  most  vile,  most  dreadful  in  its  kind, 
Hangs,  like  a  mill-stone,  heavy  on  my  mind; 
By  conscience  urged,  in  duty's  cause  made  bold, 
To  you  this  wicked  thing  I  shall  unfold, 
264 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Since  plain  enough  to  me  is  its  intent, 

An  open  insult  on  my  government. 

Long  since,  while  Britain  with  maternal  hand, 

Cheer 'd  the  lov'd  offspring  of  Columbia's  land, 

This  State,  then  Province,  pass'd  with  wise  intent, 
An  Act,  Stage-Plays  and  such  things  to  prevent : 
You'll  find  it,  sirs,  among  the  Laws  sky  blue, 
Made  near  that  time  on  brooms  when  Witches  flew. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  this,  some  chaps  uncivil, 

Grand  emissaries  of  our  foe  the  Devil, 

Aliens  and  Foreigners  and  Actors  funny, 

Who  less  esteem  our  morals  than  our  money ; 

Even  in  our  holy  Capital  of  late, 

Have  dared  insult  the  majesty  of  state, 

And  to  exhibit  publicly,  propose, 

Stage-Plays  and  Interludes  and  Heathen  Shows; 

Which  in  the  garb  of  Moral  Lectures  drest, 

Of  our  good,  sober  manners  make  a  jest. 

Judge,  Gentlemen !  my  feelings  when  at  first 
This  information  on  my  ear-drum  burst: 
Not  more  was  Israel's  hapless  King  appall'd 
When  Endor's  witch  the  ghost  of  Samuel  call'd. 

Wild  consternation  on  my  visage  hung, 
Congeal 'd  my  blood,  and  every  nerve  unstrung; 

265 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

O'er  my  whole  frame  a  palsying  horror  flew, 
And  sense,  retiring,  bade  a  long  adieu. 

With  joy  extreme,  0  gentlemen !  in  you 

The  firm  upholders  of  the  laws  I  view, 

On  you  devolves  the  task  (I  grant  it  great), 

To  keep  unstain'd  the  chasteness  of  our  State: 

Since  that  good  lady  is  beset  so  sore 

By  rakes  and  libertines  full  many  a  score. 

And  whate  'er  punishment  you  shall  devise, 
As  to  your  noble  judgments  seemeth  wise ; 
Whether  you  burn,  drown,  knock  them  on  the  head, 
Or  hang  them  by  the  neck  till  dead,  dead,  dead — 

I  hope  a  great  example  it  will  stand, 
And  in  terrorem  guard  our  pious  land." 


LEMUEL  HOPKINS 

The  work  done  by  Theodore  Dwight  consisted 
mainly  of  suggesting  a  line  here  and  there,  and 
of  sharpening  the  points  of  some  of  the  satires 
produced  by  the  others;  but  the  work  done  by 
Dr.  Lemuel  Hopkins  (1750-1801)  was  much 
more  definite  and  shows  individuality  if  not 
positive  talent.  Hopkins  was  an  eccentric  phy 
sician,  long-legged  and  staring-eyed,  and  yet  a 
man  skilled  in  his  profession  and  strikingly  in 
telligent.  Long  after  his  death  the  story  con 
tinued  to  be  told  of  his  having  found  a  child  suf 
fering  with  scarlet  fever  lying  in  a  closed  room 
and  covered  with  a  multitude  of  blankets,  and 
of  how  he  seized  it  and  ran,  wild-eyed,  from 
the  house.  The  family,  thinking  him  demented, 
pursued  him  with  brooms,  pokers,  rolling  pins, 
anything  at  hand.  Hopkins,  however,  hurried 
to  a  tree  nearby,  placed  the  child  under  the  cool 
shade,  calmly  asked  for  some  wine  for  the  lit- 

267 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

tie  one,  and  soon  had  the  child  delivered  from 
its  delirium.  And  yet,  splendid  physician  as 
he  was,  he  lived  in  constant  fear  of  consump 
tion,  and  had  himself  bled  so  often  that  he  did 
indeed  at  last  die  from  a  lung  trouble  brought 
on  by  this  weakening  surgery. 

In  spite  of  his  strange  manners,  Hopkins 
was  sound  of  heart  and  stood  boldly  for  what 
he  believed.  When  General  Ethan  Allen  wrote 
a  work  upholding  infidelity,  the  sharp-witted 
doctor  came  back  at  him  with  a  poem — a 
mighty  weapon  in  a  skilful  hand. 

"  Lo,  Allen  'scaped  from  British  jails, 
His  tushes  broke  by  biting  nails, 
Appears  in  Hyperborean  skies, 
To  tell  the  world  the  Bible  lies. 
See  him  on  green  hills  north  afar 
Glow  like  a  self-enkindled  star, 
Prepar'd  (with  mob-collecting  club 
Black  from  the  forge  of  Belzebub, 
And  grin  with  metaphysic  scowl, 
With  quill  just  plucked  from  wing  of  owl) 
As  rage  or  reason  rise  or  sink, 
To  shed  his  blood,  or  shed  his  ink. 
Behold  inspired  from  Vermont  dens 
The  seer  of  Antichrist  descends, 
To  feed  new  mobs  with  Hell-born  manna 
In  Gentile  lands  of  Susquehanna; 

268 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

And  teach  the  Pennsylvania  Quaker 
High  blasphemies  against  his  maker. 

All  front  he  seems  like  wall  of  brass, 

And  brays  tremendous  as  an  ass; 

One  hand  is  clench 'd  to  batter  noses, 

While  t'other  scrawls  'gainst  Paul  and  Moses." 

We  know,  too,  that  he  wrote  some  of  the  bitter 
lines  against  Jefferson,  already  quoted,  and 
parts  of  that  strong  plea  to  the  States,  also 
quoted  above,  beginning  with  the  words: 

"Go  view  the  lands  to  lawless  power  a  prey." 

He  had  no  patience  whatever  with  the  many 
quacks  whom  the  lax  medical  laws  of  the  day 
allowed  to  prey  upon  the  people,  and  some  of 
his  bitterest  expressions  are  against  these  vam 
pires.  For  many  years  a  popular  poem  at  the 
New  England  fire-side  was  his  Victim  of  the 
Cancer  Quack: 

11  Here  lies  a  fool  flat  on  his  back, 
The  victim  of  a  cancer  quack ; 
Who  lost  his  money  and  his  life, 
By  plaster,  caustic,  and  by  knife. 
The  case  was  this — A  pimple  rose 
South-east  a  little  of  his  nose, 
269 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Which  daily  reddened  and  grew  bigger, 
As  too  much  drinking  gave  it  vigor. 
A  score  of  gossips  soon  ensure 
Full  threescore  different  modes  of  cure; 
But  yet  the  full-fed  pimple  still 
Defied  all  petticoated  skill; 
When  fortune  led  him  to  peruse 
A  hand-bill  in  the  weekly  news, 
Signed  by  six  fools  of  different  sorts, 
All  cured  of  cancers  made  of  warts, 
Who  recommend,  with  due  submission, 
This  cancer-monger  as  magician. 

The  bargain  struck,  the  plaster  on, 
Which  gnawed  the  cancer  at  its  leisure, 
And  pained  his  face  above  all  measure. 
But  still  the  pimple  spread  the  faster, 
And  swelled  like  toad  that  meets  disaster. 


Then  purged  him  pale  with  jalap  drastic, 
And  next  applied  the  infernal  caustic. 
But  yet,  this  semblance  bright  of  hell 
Served  but  to  make  the  patient  yell; 
And,  gnawing  on  with  fiery  pace, 
Devoured  one  broadside  of  his  face. 
*  Courage  'tis  done, '  the  doctor  cried, 
And  quick  the  incision  knife  applied: 
That  with  three  cuts  made  such  a  hole 
Out  flew  the  patient's  tortured  soul!  " 
270 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

These,  then,  were  the  leaders  of  the  little 
group  of  wits  who  made  many  a  politician  and 
impostor  of  colonial  days  writhe  under  the  well- 
knotted  lash.  Much  that  they  wrote  was  the 
veriest  doggerel,  and  some  of  them  knew  it; 
but  whatever  they  produced  was  wildly  ap 
plauded  by  their  friends  and  dreaded  by  their 
enemies.  It  was  a  unique  movement  in  those 
old  days,  and  its  success  was  unequalled  by  like 
attempts  until  a  similar  organization  known  as 
the  Croaker  Poets  arose  years  later  in  New 
York  City.  Those  broadsides — The  Anarchiad, 
The  Echo,  The  Political  Green  House,  and 
others — fulfilled  a  positive  need  of  the  times, 
and  no  matter  how  indifferent  their  literary 
qualities,  their  importance  in  the  making  of  the 
nation  is  worthy  of  no  small  consideration. 


VI 


HUGH  BRACKENRIDGE 

Now,  we  must  not  think  that  the  victims  of 
these  Hartford  Wits  aimed  no  arrows  in  reply ; 
several  of  the  persecuted  returned  hot  missives. 
The  Wits  had  at  least  one  notable  and  worthy 
opponent — Hugh  Brackenridge  (1748-1816). 
Brackenridge  was  a  "  furious  "  Democrat,  a 
man  so  violent  in  his  oppositions  that,  accord 
ing  to  his  son's  testimony,  he  resigned  a  posi 
tion  as  judge  for  fear  he  should,  while  holding 
office,  inflict  bodily  injury  upon  a  political 
enemy.  And  yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  we 
have  to-day  scarcely  a  scrap  of  his  satirical 
comments  upon  the  Federalists.  His  son 
states  that  the  father  was  exceedingly  careless 
about  his  manuscripts,  considering  them  worth 
less  as  soon  as  they  had  served  their  purpose ; 
and  doubtless  it  is  because  of  this  characteris 
tic  that  his  fame  as  a  brilliant  political  wit  rests 
mainly  on  tradition.  He  left  to  posterity, 

272 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

however,  one  work  which  bears  the  marks  of 
genius: — the  Duyckincks  speak  of  it  as  one  of 
the  greatest  political  satires  yet  produced  in 
America.  That  work  is  Modern  Chivalry,  or 
the  Adventures  of  Captain  Farrago  and  Teague 
0' Regan,  His  Servant  (1796-1806).  Bracken- 
ridge,  the  early  follower  of  Jefferson  and  erst 
while  staunch  admirer  of  the  "  common  peo 
ple,  "  had  so  changed  his  views  under  a  decade 
or  two  of  Democratic  government  that  now  he 
had  almost  lost  faith  in  the  genius  of  the  popu 
lace  for  self-rule.  If  you  are  a  believer,  in  the 
infallibility  of  Democracy,  read  this  book,  and 
your  faith  will  be  considerably  shaken. 

Brackenridge's  life,  like  that  of/  nearly  every 
other  humorist  whom  we  have  discussed,  was 
full  of  activity.  Born  in  Scotland,  he  came  at 
the  age  of  five  with  his  parents  and  their 
numerous  other  children,  to  America.  The 
father  was  so  poverty-stricken  that  upon  land 
ing  he  had  to  sell  his  only  coat  to  buy  the  fam 
ily  some  food,  and  it  is  known  that  all  walked 
nearly  the  entire  distance  from  New  York  City 
to  York  County,  Pennsylvania.  There  they 
leased  a  backwoods  farm  and  nearly  starved 
to  death  before  the  first  crop  came.  But  who 

18  273 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

ever  heard  of  a  Scotchman's  failing?  Hugh 
Brackenridge  not  only  survived  the  lack  of  food 
and  the  unremitting  toil,  but  at  the  same  time 
learned  Latin  and  Greek  from  a  circuit-riding 
parson,  "  swapped  "  his  knowledge  of  these 
for  lessons  in  mathematics,  and  at  fifteen  was 
ready  to  teach  school.  Those  were  days  of 
arduous  struggle  for  the  boy;  often  he  walked 
thirty  miles  to  obtain  a  book  and  then  spent 
the  night  reading  it  by  the  light  of  a  log-fire. 
That  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  well  prepared 
to  teach  the  old-time  country-school  every  one 
may  judge  for  himself.  He  went  down  to  Gun 
powder  Falls,  Maryland,  to  instruct,  found 
among  the  students  a  giant  bully  who  had 
thrashed  all  former  teachers,  and,  having  tried 
persuasion  in  vain,  "  seized  a  brand  from  the 
fire,  knocked  the  rebel  down,  and  spread  terror 
around  him."  From  that  day  the  discipline 
at  Gunpowder  Falls  was  exemplary. 

But  Brackenridge  would  never  have  been 
content  as  a  mere  country  school-teacher.  Soon 
he  wais  at  Princeton,  serving  as  a  tutor  and 
general  utility  man,  and  studying  with  the  same 
zest  as  in  his  boyhood.  When  he  graduated 
in  1771,  he  recited  with  Freneau  a  dialogue, 

274 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

The  Rising  Glory  of  America, — a  poem  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  was  widely  read  throughout 
the  colonies.  He  still  remained  at  Princeton 
several  months,  tutoring  and  studying  theology, 
and  then,  after  receiving  license  to  preach,  he 
returned  to  Maryland,  where  he  preached  and 
supervised  a  highly  successful  academy. 

It  was  while  he  was  thus  engaged  that  the 
Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  occurred.  The  strain 
was  too  much  for  his  Scotch  blood.  He  has 
tily  prepared  a  vigorous  drama  entitled 
Bunker  Hill,  which  was  published  a  few 
months  later,  and  during  the  same  year,  1776, 
hurried  away  to  Philadelphia.  There  he 
edited  the  United  States  Magazine,  a  journal 
that  did  good  service  in  lashing  the  Tories  and 
other  foes  of  the  new  government,  and  in  it  he 
did  work  that  gained  him  wide  notoriety  and 
not  a  few  bitter  enemies.  Having  written  one 
day  a  severe  stricture  on  General  Lee's  con 
duct  toward  Washington,  he  was  called  upon 
the  next  morning  by  the  fiery  general  to  receive 
a  thrashing.  In  response  to  an  earthquake  of 
a  knock,  Brackenridge  stuck  his  head  out  an 
upstairs  window,  whereupon  Lee  shook  his  fist 
at  him  and  shouted, 

275 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

"  Come  down,  and  I'll  give  you  as  good  a 
horse-whipping  as  any  rascal  ever  received !  ' ' 

"  Excuse  me,  general,'7  calmly  replied 
Brackenridge ;  "  but  I  wouldn't  come  down  for 
two  such  favors!  ' 

Soon  we  find  Brackenridge  serving  as  a 
chaplain  in  the  Continental  Army.  What  fiery 
sermons  were  his !  Six  of  them  were  published 
in  1778  under  the  title,  Six  Political  Discourses 
Founded  on  the  Scripture;  the  publisher  did  a 
very  dangerous  thing  not  to  print  them  on 
asbestos!  How  Brackenridge  could  hate! 
Listen  to  a  few  Christian  remarks  concerning 
the  British:  "  Let  every  class  of  men  join  to 
execrate  the  tyrant  and  the  tyranny,  and  to 
rank  the  George  of  England  with  the  Cains 
and  the  murderers  of  mankind.  Let  fathers 
teach  their  sons  the  degenerate  nature  and  the 
name  of  Englishmen — let  mothers  still  with  this 
the  children  on  the  breast,  and  make  the  name 
a  bugbear.  .  .  .  Let  every  man  become  a  sol 
dier.  .  .  .  Let  him  be  of  the  mind  to  fight  from 
hill  to  hill,  from  vale  to  vale,  and  on  every 
plain,  until  the  enemy  is  driven  back,  and  forced 
to  depart, — until  the  tyrant  shall  give  up  his 
claim,  and  be  obliged  to  confess  that  free  men, 
that  Americans,  are  not  to  be  subdued." 

276 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Now,  Brackenridge  never  did  like  preach 
ing,  so  he  said;  and,  moreover,  he  had  his 
serious  doubts  as  to  the  veracity  of  Presby 
terian  doctrines.  He  turned  to  the  law,  studied 
in  the  office  of  Samuel  Chase  at  Annapolis,  and 
in  1781  went  to  Pittsburgh,  then  a  small  vil 
lage,  and  was  almost  immediately  chosen  for 
the  State  Legislature.  Now  came  the  trouble 
over  the  tax  on  liquor,  and  Brackenridge,  with 
characteristic  impetuosity,  was  so  bitterly  op 
posed  to  the  excise  that  he  aided  in  the  Whis 
key  Insurrection  in  Pennsylvania,  and  was 
obliged  to  defend  himself  in  1795  by  publishing 
his  Incidents  of  the  Insurrection  in  the  West 
ern  Part  of  Pennsylvania. 

All  this  was  but  an  unconscious  preparation 
for  his  masterpiece,  Modern  Chivalry;  for  some 
of  the  most  laughable  portions  of  the  book  deal 
with  these  very  matters  of  excise  and  rebellion. 
The  first  part  of  the  work  appeared  in  1796, 
and  ten  years  later  came  the  second  part.  The 
book  became  almost  a  household  classic  in  the 
western  territory.  One  day,  while  at  a 
frontier  inn,  Brackenridge  asked  the  landlord 
if  he  had  anything  to  read.  "  That  I  have," 
said  the  host,  as  he  reached  down  under  the 
bar  and  pulled  out  Modern  Chivalry.  "  There 

277 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

is  something  will  make  you  laugh,  and  the 
man  that  wrote  it  was  no  fool  neither."  Years 
afterward  a  descendant  of  the  author,  while 
travelling  through  Mississippi,  was  asked 
whether  he  was  related  to  the  Brackenridge 
who  wrote  Modern  Chivalry,  and,  upon  stating 
that  he  was,  immediately  was  offered  a  horse 
by  the  native,  and  could  persuade  the  owner  to 
take  no  pay  for  its  use. 

We  should  not  be  surprised,  therefore,  to  find 
Brackenridge  succeeding  from  this  time  forth. 
In  1799  he  was  appointed  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Pennsylvania,  a  position  which  he 
honored  by  his  unswerving  integrity  until  his 
death  in  1816.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  his  digni 
fied  office,  he  was  always  full  of  wit,  and  is  said 
to  have  found  but  one  man  whom  he  could  not 
make  laugh  immediately.  That  man  was 
George  Washington.  One  evening  at  a  social 
meeting  he  tried  all  his  powers  upon  the  Father 
of  the  Country ;  but  not  one  smile  flitted  across 
the  sombre  face.  That  night,  however,  Brack 
enridge  had  his  revenge.  Lying  in  a  room 
adjoining  Washington's,  he  heard  the  general 
giggling  far  into  the  night.  It  is  not  known 
whether  George  of  the  Hatchet  was  slow  to  see 

278 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

a  joke  or  whether  he  discovered  Brackenridge's 
intention  and  determined  not  to  be  overcome 
in  the  presence  of  the  other  guests. 

Modern  Chivalry  is  rough  in  its  flavor,  not 
always  delicate  in  its  expression,  but  ever 
positive  and  manly  in  its  sentiments.  One  finds 
in  it  here  and  there  reminders  of  old  Don 
Quixote.  Captain  Farrago,  one  of  the  main 
characters,  a  keen,  practical  man,  with  an 
abounding  sense  of  humor,  finds  continued 
amusement  in  his  red-headed  Irish  servant, 
Teague  0 'Began,  who  is  constantly  getting  into 
a  stew  because  of  his  popularity  with  the 
masses.  Just  here  is  the  main  purpose  of  the 
book :  to  show  the  follies  of  a  young  democracy, 
to  illustrate  the  fact  that  an  unsettled,  raw 
race  is  not  always  ready  for  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  the  self-government  thus 
suddenly  cast  upon  them.  What  a  politician 
Teague  might  have  made !  He  could  have  had 
any  office  from  hog-reeve  to  a  seat  in  Congress, 
simply  because  he  was  '  '  popular  with  the  com 
mon  people."  He  was  so  ignorant  that  he 
could  not  justly  hold  any  position;  but  what 
did  that  matter  so  long  as  the  free  voter  liked 
him!  But,  alas,  how  fickle  are  the  free  voters! 

279 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Appointed  collector  of  the  excise  in  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  he  is  seized  by  these  same  "  free  peo 
ple,  "  "  the  masses,"  "  the  voters,"  tarred  and 
feathered,  and  borne  away  to  oblivion.  My 
dear,  deluded  politician,  all  the  people  can 
fool  you  part  of  the  time;  part  of  the  people 
can  fool  you  all  the  time;  but  don't  let  all  the 
people  fool  you  all  the  time! 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  restraining  pres 
ence  of  Captain  Farrago,  Teague  would  have 
been  the  people's  fool  for  ever  and  a  day. 
That  Farrago  himself  was  possessed  of  plenty 
of  sense  and  a  shrewd  wit  may  be  inferred 
from  his  reply  to  a  challenge  for  a  duel.  It 
is  a  clever  bit  of  ridicule  of  the  ' '  gentlemanly  ' ' 
custom  of  "  defending  one's  honor." 

"'SIR: 

11  l  I  have  two  objections  to  this  duel  matter.  The 
one  is,  lest  I  should  hurt  you ;  and  the  other  is,  lest 
you  should  hurt  me.  I  do  not  see  any  good  it  would 
do  me  to  put  a  bullet  thro '  any  part  of  your  body.  I 
could  make  no  use  of  you  when  dead  for  any  culinary 
purpose,  as  I  would  a  rabbit  or  turkey.  I  am  no  canni 
bal  to  feed  on  the  flesh  of  men.  Why  then  shoot 
down  a  human  creature,  of  which  I  could  make  no 
use?  A  buffalo  would  be  better  meat.  For  though 
your  flesh  may  be  delicate  and  tender;  yet  it  wants 

280 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

that  firmness  and  consistency  which  takes  and  retains 
salt.  At  any  rate,  it  would  not  be  fit  for  long  sea 
voyages.  You  might  make  a  good  barbecue,  it  is  true, 
being  of  the  nature  of  a  raccoon  or  an  opossum ;  but 
people  are  not  in  the  habit  of  barbecuing  anything 
human  now.  As  to  your  hide,  it  is  not  worth  taking 
off,  being  little  better  than  that  of  a  year  old  colt. 

"  '  It  would  seem  to  me  a  strange  thing  to  shoot  at 
a  man  that  would  stand  still  to  be  shot  at;  inasmuch 
as  I  have  been  heretofore  used  to  shoot  at  things  fly 
ing  or  running  or  jumping.  Were  you  on  a  tree  now, 
like  a  squirrel,  endeavoring  to  hide  yourself  in  the 
branches,  or,  like  a  raccoon,  that  after  much  eyeing 
and  spying,  I  observe  at  length  in  the  crotch  of  a  tall 
oak,  with  bough  and  leaves  intervening,  so  that  I  could 
just  get  sight  of  his  hinder  parts,  I  should  think  it 
pleasurable  enough  to  take  a  shot  at  you.  But  as  it 
is  there  is  no  skill  or  judgment  requisite  either  to  dis 
cover  or  take  you  down. 

*  *  '  As  to  myself,  I  do  not  much  like  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  anything  harmful.  I  am  under  apprehensions 
you  might  hit  me.  That  being  the  case,  I  think  it 
most  advisable  to  stay  at  a  distance.  If  you  want  to 
try  your  pistols,  take  some  object,  a  tree  or  a  barn  door 
about  my  dimensions.  If  you  hit  that,  send  me  word, 
and  I  shall  acknowledge  that  if  I  had  been  in  the  same 
place,  you  might  also  have  hit  me.'  ' 

Teagm&O 'Began,  however,  was  not  possessed 
of  such  a  supply  of  common-sense.  He  was  al- 

281 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

ways  at  the  service  of  his  countrymen.  One 
day  he  and  the  Captain,  coming  upon  an  assem 
blage,  found  the  people  voting  for  a  legislator. 
There  were  two  candidates,  the  one  a  man  of 
considerable  intelligence,  the  other  a  weaver 
who  knew  almost  nothing  beyond  the  trade  of 
spinning.  The  people  wanted  the  weaver;  he 
was  popular  with  the  voting  classes.  Captain 
Farrago  made  a  speech  against  the  laborer,  and 
in  the  course  of  his  remarks  said: 

"  '  To  come  from  counting  threads  and  adjusting 
them  to  the  splits  of  a  reed,  to  regulate  the  finances 
of  a  government,  would  be  preposterous;  there  being 
no  congruity  in  the  case.  There  is  no  analogy  be 
tween  knotting  threads  and  framing  laws.  .  .  .  Not 
that  a  manufacturer  of  linen  or  woolen  or  other 
stuffs,  is  an  inferior  character,  but  a  different  one 
from  that  which  ought  to  be  employed  in  affairs  of 
state.  .  .  .  When  you  go  to  the  senate  house,  the  ap 
plication  to  you  will  not  be  to  warp  a  web;  but  to 
make  laws  for  the  commonwealth.  Now,  suppose  that 
the  making  of  these  laws  requires  a  knowledge  of 
commerce  or  of  the  interests  of  agriculture,  or  those 
principles  upon  which  the  different  manufactures  de 
pend,  what  service  could  you  render?  ...  It  is  a 
disagreeable  thing  for  a  man  to  be  laughed  at,  and 
there  is  no  way  of  keeping  one's  self  from  it  but  by 
avoiding  all  affectation.'  : 

282 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

But  even  while  this  was  going  on,  the  peo 
ple  took  a  sudden  liking  for  red-headed 
0  'Regan,  while  he  on  his  part  was  just  as  sud 
denly  seized  with  a  liking  for  the  legislature. 
Naturally  the  Captain  seriously  objected;  the 
people,  however,  "  were  tenacious  of  their 
choice,  and  insisted  on  giving  Teague  their 
suffrages;  and  by  the  frown  upon  their  brows, 
seemed  to  indicate  resentment  at  what  had  been 
said,  as  directly  charging  them  with  want  of 
judgment.  .  .  .  '  It  is  a  very  strange  thing,'  said 
one  of  them,  .  .  .  'that  after  having  con 
quered  Burgoyne  and  Cornwallis,  and  got  a 
government  of  our  own,  we  cannot  put  in  it 
whom  we  please.  .  .  .  He  may  not  be  yet 
skilled  in  the  matter,  but  there  is  a  good  day 
coming.  We  will  empower  him;  and  it  is  bet 
ter  to  trust  a  plain  man  like  him  than  one  of 
your  high-flyers  that  will  make  laws  to  suit 
their  own  purposes.'  " 

As  a  last  resort,  Farrago  took  Teague  aside 
and  showed  him  the  evils  of  the  statesman's 
life.  "  'When  a  man  becomes  a  member  of  a 
public  body,  he  is  like  a  raccoon  or  other  beast 
that  climbs  up  the  fork  of  a  tree;  the  boys 
pushing  at  him  with  pitchforks  or  throwing 

283 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

stones  or  shooting  at  him  with  an  arrow,  the 
dogs  barking  in  the  mean  time.  One  will  find 
fault  with  your  not  speaking;  another  with 
your  speaking,  if  you  speak  at  all.  They  will 
put  you  in  the  newspapers  and  ridicule  you  as  a 
perfect  beast.  There  is  what  they  call  the 
caricatura,  that  is,  representing  you  with  a 
dog's  head  or  a  cat's  claw.  As  you  have  a  red 
head  they  will  very  probably  make  a  fox  of 
you,  or  a  sorrel  horse,  or  a  brindled  cow.  It  is 
the  devil  in  hell  to  be  exposed  to  the  squibs  and 
crackers  of  the  gazette  wits  and  publications. ' 
Teague  decided  to  decline  the  honor  with 
thanks. 

We  all  know  how  a  raw,  uncultured  com 
munity  likes  to  show  off  what  little  learning  it 
does  possess.  Just  so  it  must  have  been  in  the 
early  days  of  our  Republic.  A  Philosophical 
Society  had  been  formed,  declares  the  author, 
and  Teague — think  of  it! — had  been  invited  to 
become  a  member!  "  It  was  necessary  .  .  . 
for  the  candidates  to  procure  some  token  of  a 
philosophic  turn  of  mind,  such  as  the  skin  of 
a  dead  cat,  or  some  odd  kind  of  a  mouse-trap ; 
or  have  phrases  in  their  mouths  about  minerals 
and  petrifactions;  so  as  to  support  some  idea 
of  natural  knowledge,  and  pass  muster.  There 

284 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

was  one  who  got  in,  by  finding  accidentally  the 
tail  of  a  rabbit,  which  had  been  taken  off  in  a 
boy's  trap.  .  .  .  The  beard  of  an  old  fox,  taken 
off  and  dried  in  the  sun,  was  the  means  of  in 
troducing  one  whom  I  knew  very  well.  ...  It 
happened  as  the  Captain  was  riding  this  day, 
and  Teague  trotting  after  him,  he  saw  a  large 
owl  that  had  been  shot  by  somebody,  and  was 
placed  in  the  crotch  of  a  tree.  .  .  .  The  Cap 
tain  being  struck  with  it,  as  somewhat  larger 
than  such  birds  usually  are,  desired  Teague  to 
reach  it  to  him ;  and  tying  it  to  the  hinder  part 
of  his  saddle,  rode  along."  As  they  came  into 
the  village,  members  of  the  Society  saw  the 
bird,  marvelled  at  it,  and  at  once  proposed  to 
elect  Teague  to  membership. 

Of  course,  Farrago  felt  duty-bound  to  offer 
some  objections.  You  may  have  noticed  that 
there  are  always  some  hard-headed  fellows  who 
oppose  "  the  will  of  the  people. "  Farrago's 
objections  were  all  in  vain.  "  Said  the  philoso 
pher,  at  the  first  institution  of  the  society,  by 
Dr.  Franklin  and  others,  it  was  put  upon  a  nar 
row  basis,  and  only  men  of  science  were  con 
sidered  proper  to  compose  it;  and  this  might 
be  a  necessary  policy  at  that  time.  .  .  .  The 
matter  stands  now  on  a  broad  and  catholic  bot- 

285 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

torn ;  and  like  the  gospel  itself,  it  is  our  orders, 
'to  go  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges,  and 
compel  them  to  come  in.'  There  are  hundreds 
whose  names  you  may  see  on  our  list,  who  are 
not  more  instructed  than  this  lad  of  yours." 

As  in  many  another  emergency,  the  Cap 
tain's  last  and  only  successful  appeal  was  to 
Teague's  cowardice.  He  described  the  hard 
ships  liable  to  come  to  a  member  of  the  learned 
Philosophical  Society,  and  then  stressed  the 
dangers  of  it  all.  "  'It  is  their  great  study  to 
find  curiosities ;  and  because  this  man  saw  you 
coming  after  me,  with  a  red  head,  trotting  like 
an  Esquimaux  Indian,  it  has  struck  his  mind 
to  pick  you  up  and  pass  you  for  one.  Nay,  it 
is  possible  they  may  intend  worse;  and  when 
they  have  examined  you  awhile,  take  the  skin 
off  you,  and  pass  you  for  an  overgrown  otter, 
or  a  musk-rat,  or  some  outlandish  animal,  for 
which  they  will  themselves  invent  a  name.'  " 
Again  the  Irishman  declined  the  honor. 

Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  all  a  protest  against 
too  much  liberty  to  an  unprepared  people,  an 
argument  against  the  infallibility  of  democ 
racy?  In  its  day  the  book  was  really  needed; 
for  there  seemed  to  be  imminent  danger  of  our 
nation's  becoming  freedom-mad  and  filling  the 

286 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

halls  of  congress  with  the  butcher,  the  baker, 
and  the  candlestick  maker,  instead  of  with  oil- 
magnates,  coal-barons,  and  railroad  manipula 
tors.  And,  luckily,  the  lesson  was  taught  where 
it  was  most  needed;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
book  had  its  greatest  popularity  in  the  primi 
tive  society  of  the  new  West. 

How  closely  American  humor  of  those  days 
clings  to  the  history  of  the  nation!  First  it 
portrays  the  humor  of  founding  a  new  civiliza 
tion;  it  passes  to  a  satirical  expression  of  the 
people 's  discontent ;  it  aids  with  its  sarcasm  in 
a  deadly  struggle  against  tyranny;  and  now 
it  turns  and  warns  its  people  of  their  extrava 
gance  in  a  new-found  liberty.  Perhaps  noth 
ing  has  been  more  important  in  influencing  the 
development  of  America's  political  history 
than  the  humor  of  the  American  press. 

In  these  later  colonial  times  everybody 
laughed.  We  gain  such  mistaken  ideas  from 
our  books  of  history  concerning  the  sombre- 
ness  and  solemnity  of  the  old  days.  Every 
statesman,  nearly  every  preacher,  unbent  now 
and  then,  in  private  at  least,  and  indulged  in 
wit.  John  Adams  wrote  some  very  passable 
humor;  Jefferson  is  credited  with  numerous 
brilliant  passes ;  pious  Timothy  Dwight,  as  we 

287 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

have  seen,  loved  to  crack  a  joke  on  his  theo 
logical  foes ;  and  Governor  William  Livingston, 
of  New  Jersey,  known  as  "  the  Don  Quixote 
of  the  Jerseys, "  wrote  so  many  laughable 
squibs  that  at  last  the  people  of  his  State  pro 
tested,  and  passed  resolutions  declaring  it  in 
decorous  in  their  Chief  Magistrate  to  be  so 
funny.  Even  grave  George  Washington  now 
and  then  attempted  humor.  Does  he  not  ap 
proach  it  in  this  letter  describing  a  soldier's 
dinner! 

"  Since  our  arrival  at  this  happy  spot,  we  have  had 
a  ham,  sometimes  a  shoulder  of  bacon,  to  grace  the 
head  of  the  table;  a  piece  of  roast  beef  adorns  the 
foot ;  and  a  dish  of  beans  or  greens,  almost  impercep 
tible,  decorates  the  centre.  When  the  cook  has  a  mind 
to  cut  a  figure,  which  I  presume  will  be  the  case  to 
morrow,  we  have  two  beef-steak  pies,  or  dishes  of 
crabs,  in  addition,,  one  on  each  side  of  the  centre  dish, 
dividing  the  space  and  reducing  the  distance  between 
dish  and  dish  to  about  six  feet,  which  without  them 
would  be  near  twelve  feet  apart.  Of  late  he  has  had 
the  surprising  sagacity  to  discover  that  apples  will 
make  pies;  and  it  is  a  question,  if,  in  the  violence  of 
his  efforts,  we  do  not  get  one  of  apples  instead  of  hav 
ing  both  of  beef-steaks.  If  the  ladies  can  put  up  with 
such  entertainment,  and  will  submit  to  partake  of  it 
on  plates,  once  tin  but  now  iron  (not  become  so  by  the 
labor  of  scouring) ,  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  them.  .  .  . " 

288 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 


No  study  of  colonial  humor  would  be  com 
plete  without  some  mention  of  the  dramatic  wit 
of  the  period.  Notwithstanding  the  current 
opinion  to  the  contrary,  many  of  our  ancestors 
of  New  England  and  New  York  and  Pennsyl 
vania  went  to  plays  and  enjoyed  them.  Would 
that  this  were  the  place  to  enter  into  some  dis 
cussion  of  the  early  American  theatre;  it  is  a 
genuinely  interesting  subject.  We  have  seen 
that  performances  were  given  in  Williamsburg, 
Virginia,  and  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  as 
early  as  1716,  and  in  houses  built  for  such  a 
purpose;  while  dramatic  performances  were 
not  rare  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia  as  far 
back  as  1760.  In  1792  plays  were  presented  in 
Boston  under  the  name  of  "  dramatic  recita 
tion,"  so  as  not  to  conflict  with  the  laws  on 
"  stage  plays."  The  bill  was  repealed  in  1793, 
and  that  same  year  the  Federal  Street  The 
atre  was  built,  and  on  February  4,  1794,  was 
opened  for  public  acting. 

19  289 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

The  first  play  written  in  America  for  actual 
presentation  seems  to  have  been  Thomas  God 
frey's  Prince  of  Parthia,  composed  in  1758  and 
offered  in  1759  to  the  once  famous  American 
Company  at  Philadelphia.  It  was  a  dignified, 
stiff  piece  of  work ;  but  it  might  have  succeeded 
with  the  uncritical  colonists  of  that  day.  For 
some  unknown  reason,  however,  it  was  never 
produced.  As  early  as  1766  a  play  based  on  an 
American  theme,  Ponteach,  or,  The  Savages  of 
America,  had  been  written  by  Major  Bobert 
Eogers,  an  officer  in  the  French  and  Indian 
War ;  but  we  have  no  record  of  its  performance. 
Perhaps  it  was  best  that  it  was  born  to  blush 
unseen ;  for  it  had  some  cause  to  blush.  It  was 
thoroughly  conventional;  every  Indian  in  it 
was  a  cultured  gentleman.  We  know,  too,  that 
in  1767  there  was  published  in  New  York  City 
an  amusing  satirical  play  called  Disenchant 
ment,  or,  The  Force  of  Credulity,  a  New  Ameri 
can  Comic  Opera  of  Three  Acts,  written  by 
one  "  Andrew  Barton."  But  it  was  so  effec 
tive  in  its  personal  allusions  that  it  was  with 
drawn  after  its  first  rehearsal  at  Philadelphia, 
Verily,  American  drama  was  having  a  hard 
struggle  to  be  born.  . 

290 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

In  1774  dramatic  literature  came  to  its  own 
as  a  political  agency.  In  that  year  we  find 
Jonathan  Sewall,  hot-headed  old  Tory  of 
Massachusetts,  writing  a  crude  but  neverthe 
less  effective  colloquy  entitled,  The  Americans 
Roused,  in  a  Cure  for  the  Spleen,  or,  Amuse 
ment  for  a  Winter's  Evening:  Being  the  Sub 
stance  of  a  Conversation  on  the  Times  over  a 
Friendly  Tankard  and  Pipe.  What  a  fine  ap 
pearance  all  that  would  have  made  on  ye  old 
time  bill-board!  Again,  however,  the  piece 
was  not  publicly  presented;  but,  as  it  was 
widely  read  and  as  it  ridiculed  the  work  of  the 
first  Continental  Congress,  it  did  indeed  arouse 
the  Americans.  About  the  same  time  Madam 
Mercy  "Warren,  "  the  historical,  philosophical, 
poetical,  and  satirical  consort  of  ...  General 
James  Warren  of  Plymouth  " — so  the  quaint 
announcement  put  it — wrote  two  plays  dealing 
with  the  political  situation  of  the  period.  One 
of  these  was  The  Adulator:  a  Tragedy,  as 
it  is  now  Acted  in  Upper  Servia.  Of  course, 
"Upper  Servia"  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  Boston,  while  Brutus,  Cassius,  Marcus, 
and  the  other  classic  characters  were  our  more 
modern  friends,  John  Adams,  Samuel  Adams, 

291 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Hancock,  and  so  on.  If  any  Englishman  ever 
read  that  dramatic  sketch,  he  must  have  been 
decidedly  ashamed  of  himself;  for  Mercy 
Warren  portrayed  the  whole  British  race  as  a 
multitude  of  devils.  Her  other  play,  The 
Group,  was  published  in  1775.  Various  indig 
nant  Koyalists  of  New  England  found  them 
selves  presented  to  the  public  under  the  aston 
ishing  names  of  Beau  Trumps,  Scriblerius 
Fribble,  Simple  Sapling,  Sir  Sparrow  Spend- 
all,  Brigadier  Hateall,  and  Judge  Meagre. 
Perhaps  a  part  of  one  of  the  Judge's  speeches 
will  give  an  idea  of  the  general  flavor: 

"  I  hate  the  people  who,  no  longer  gulled, 

See  through  the  schemes  of  our  aspiring  clan. 

And  from  the  rancor  of  my  venomed  mind, 

I  look  askance  on  all  the  human  race; 

And  if  they  're  not  to  be  appalled  by  fear, 

I  wish  the  earth  might  drink  that  vital  stream 

That  warms  the  heart  and  feeds  the  manly  glow — 

The  love  inherent,  planted  in  the  breast, 

To  equal  liberty  conferred  on  man 

By  Him  who  formed  the  peasant  and  the  King." 

The  next  year,  1776,  there  was  published  a 
play  not  quite  so  long  as  its  title  would  indi 
cate — The  Fall  of  British  Tyranny:  or  Ameri- 

292 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

can  Liberty  Triumphant.  The  First  Campaign. 
A  Tragi-Comedy  of  Five  Acts,  as  Lately 
Planned  at  the  Royal  Theatrum  Pandemonium 
at  St.  James.  The  drama  is  really  a  portrayal 
of  all  the  important  events  in  the  Revolution 
up  to  the  date  when  the  play  appeared,  and  the 
plot,  as  daring  in  location  as  in  time,  hops  from 
one  continent  to  another  with  an  agility 
equalled  only  by  the  author's  contempt  for  the 
classic  rules  of  play-writing.  Perhaps  we  can 
realize  something  of  its  rough  humor  from  this 
bit  of  a  scene.  The  British  generals  and  a 
British  admiral  are  holding  a  council  of  war. 
They  cannot  see  what  to  do  with  these  stub 
born  American  rustics.  The  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill  is  just  over,  and  Lord  Boston  is  complain 
ing  of  the  way  these  colonists  fight.  A  loud 
squabbling  results;  but  the  admiral  breaks  in 
upon  it  in  true  sailor  fashion: 

"  Damn  it,  don't  let  us  kick  up  a  dust  among  our 
selves,  to  be  laughed  at  fore  and  aft.  This  is  a  hell 
of  a  council  of  war, — though  I  believe  it  will  turn 
out  one  before  we're  done. 

Lord  Boston:  Well,  gentlemen,  what  are  we  met 
here  for? 

293 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Admiral  Tombstone:  Who  the  devil  should   know 
if  you  don't?    Damn  it,  didn't  you  send  for  us? 


Clinton:  The  provincials  are  vastly  strong,  and 
seem  no  novices  in  the  art  of  war.  'Tis  true,  we 
gained  the  hill  at  last,  but  of  what  advantage  is  it  to 
us?  None.  The  loss  of  fourteen  hundred  as  brave 
men  as  Britain  can  boast  of  is  a  melancholy  consid 
eration,  and  must  make  our  most  sanguinary  friends 
in  England  abate  of  their  vigor. 

Elbow  Room:  I  never  saw  or  read  of  any  battle 
equal  to  it.  ...  No  laurels  there ! 

Mr.  Caper:  No,  nor  triumphs  neither.  I  regret  in 
particular  the  number  of  brave  officers  that  fell  that 
day,  many  of  whom  were  of  the  first  families  in  Eng 
land. 

Admiral  Tombstone:  Aye,  a  damned  affair,  indeed! 
Many  powdered  beaux — petit  maitres — fops — fribbles 
— skip  jackets — macaronies — jack  puddings — noble 
men's  bastards  and  whores'  sons  fell  that  day;  and 
my  poor  marines  stood  no  more  chance  with  'em  than 
a  cat  in  hell  without  claws. 

Lord  Boston:  It  can't  be  helped,  Admiral.  What 
is  to  be  done  next? 

Admiral  Tombstone:  Done? — why,  what  the  devil 
have  you  done?  Nothing  yet,  but  eat  Paramount 's 
beef,  and  steal  a  few  Yankee  sheep ;  and  that,  it  seems, 
is  now  become  a  damned  lousy,  beggarly  trade,  too; 
for  you  haven't  left  yourselves  a  mouthful  to  eat." 

294 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

Late  in  the  winter  of  1775  General  Burgoyne 
wrote  for  the  amusement  of  his  officers  and  the 
Tories  a  farce  called  The  Blockade, — a  play 
which  the  aforesaid  officers  presented  with 
great  gusto  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Boston.  But  the 
sad  day  for  the  evacuation  came  in  March, 
1776,  and  then  it  was  that  some  American, 
probably  Mercy  Warren,  wrote  a  farce  on  the 
farce,  and  gave  it  the  happy  title  of  The  Block- 
Heads,  or  the  Affrighted  Officers.  It  afforded 
many  a  laugh  to  the  patriots,  for  it  dealt  with 
the  surprise  felt  by  the  British  when  they  awoke 
one  morning  to  find  Washington  and  his  rag 
amuffins  encamped  upon  the  hills  about  Boston. 
Thus  the  merry  war  of  words  continued.  Dra 
matic  humor,  in  short,  served  the  country  in 
just  the  same  way  and  with  just  as  much  zeal 
as  did  the  newspapers  and  the  magazines  and 
the  innumerable  pamphlets  of  the  day. 

ROYALL  TYLER 

Few  if  any  of  these  early  attempts  deserve 
the  name  of  dramas;  some  were  never  acted; 
some  were  never  intended  for  acting;  they 
sometimes  had  simply  the  dramatic  feature  of 
dialogue  or  conversation.  The  first  American 

295 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

comedy  regularly  produced  was  The  Contrast, 
a  Comedy  in  Five  Acts:  written  by  a  Citizen  of 
the  United  States,  played  at  the  John  Street 
Theatre  in  New  York  in  1787.  The  "  citizen 
of  the  United  States,"  it  was  soon  known,  was 
Eoyall  Tyler  (1757-1826).  It  would  not  do  to 
attempt  to  rehearse  with  any  detail  the  deeds 
of  Tyler's  life;  it  would  require  another  vol 
ume.  He  felt  capable  to  undertake  any  task, 
no  matter  how  novel  or  difficult.  We  have 
heard  that  "  fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to 
tread;"  but  this  Tyler  was  no  fool.  He  be 
came  a  famous  jurist  in  his  day;  he  was  aide- 
de-camp  to  General  Benjamin  Lincoln  when 
that  soldier  undertook  to  squelch  Shay's  Ee- 
bellion ;  and  he  wrote  informing  magazine  arti 
cles  on  all  sorts  of  subjects.  He  went  abroad, 
and  the  result  was  his  entertaining  Yankee  in 
London  (1809).  His  contributions  to  the 
Farmer's  Weekly  Museum  (Walpole,  N.  H.) 
were  widely  copied  and  made  his  name  known 
in  every  New  England  home.  His  Reports  of 
Cases  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  Vermont 
(1809)  showed  him  to  be  an  attorney  of  much 
acumen.  He  was  forever  busy — a  rather  relia 
ble  sign  of  genius,  by  the  way. 

296 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

While  in  New  York,  seeing  about  affairs  con 
nected  with  Shay's  Eebellion,  he  concluded  that 
he  could  write  a  play,  and  The  Contrast  proved 
it.  It  was  acted  by  that  famous  "  American 
Company  "  in  April,  1787,  and  was  such  a  suc 
cess  that  Tyler  felt  encouraged  to  try  his  hand 
again.  The  next  month  he  produced  May  Day 
in  Town,  or  New  York  in  an  Uproar,  a  comic 
opera  in  two  acts.  Ten  years  later,  in  1797, 
his  Good  Spec,  or  Land  in  the  Moon,  caught 
the  public  fancy  in  Boston.  Eoyall  Tyler 
might  have  made  a  famous  playwright,  if  he 
had  not  been  such  a  successful  judge. 

Strange  to  say,  this  first  attempt,  The  Con 
trast,  is  not  nearly  so  egotistical  as  most  first 
attempts  in  literature  are.  In  the  "  advertise 
ment  "  the  author  puts  forward  the  following 
excuse:  "  In  justice  to  the  Author  it  may  be 
proper  to  observe  that  this  Comedy  has  many 
claims  to  the  public  indulgence,  independent  of 
its  intrinsic  merits:  It  is  the  first  essay  of 
American  genius  in  a  difficult  species  of  compo 
sition;  it  was  written  by  one  who  never  criti 
cally  studied  the  rules  of  the  drama,  and,  indeed, 
has  seen  but  few  of  the  exhibitions  of  the  stage ; 
it  was  undertaken  and  finished  in  the  course  of 

297 


WIT  AND 'HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

three  weeks;  and  the  profits  of  one  night's  per- 
formance  were  appropriated  to  the  benefit  of 
the  sufferers  by  the  fire  of  Boston." 

And  what  is  our  first  regularly  acted  comedy 
about?  Well,  it  would  show  once  more,  if  you 
please,  the  difference  between  the  "  good  old 
times  "  and  these  degenerate  modern  days. 
But  let  a  few  lines  from  the  Prologue  tell  you 
about  it: 

"  Exult  each  patriot  heart! — this  night  is  shown 
A  piece  which  we  may  fairly  call  our  own; 
Where  the  proud  titles  of  *  My  Lord !  Your  Grace !  ' 
To  humble  l  Mr/  and  plain  *  Sir  '  give  place. 
Our  author  pictures  not  from  foreign  climes 
The  fashions  or  the  follies  of  the  times; 
But  has  confined  the  subject  of  his  work 
To  the  gay  scenes — the  circles  of  New  York. ' ' 

The  purpose  being  stated,  Tyler  proceeds  to 
illustrate  it.  The  first  scene  of  the  first  act 
will  give  an  idea  of  how  the  "  contrast  "  will 
be  presented;  for  here  at  the  very  beginning 
the  idle  chat  of  the  "  weaker  sex  "  portrays 
the  shameful  depravity  of  our  modern  times. 
What  a  blessing  that  we  can  so  easily  shift  the 
burden  of  our  wickedness  upon  woman!  Adam, 
the  first  man,  did  it, — but  let  us  turn  to  our 

298 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

comedy.     Charlotte    and    Letitia,  two  colonial 
dainsels,  are  talking. 

"  Letitia!  And  so,  Charlotte,  you  really  think  the 
pocket-hoop  unbecoming. 

Charlotte:  No,  I  don't  say  so.  It  may  be  very 
becoming  to  saunter  round  the  house  of  a  rainy  day ; 
to  visit  my  grandmamma,  or  to  go  to  Quakers'  meet 
ing;  but  to  swim  in  a  minuet,  with  the  eyes  of  fifty 
well-dressed  beaux  upon  me,  to  trip  it  in  the  Mall, 
or  walk  on  the  Battery,  give  me  the  luxurious,  jaunty, 
flowing  bell-hoop.  It  would  have  delighted  you  to  have 
seen  me  the  last  evening,  my  charming  girl!  I  was 
dangling  o'er  the  Battery  with  Billy  Dimple;  a  knot 
of  young  fellows  were  upon  the  platform ;  as  I  passed 
them  I  faltered  with  one  of  the  most  bewitching  false 
steps  you  ever  saw,  and  then  recovered  myself  with 
such  a  pretty  confusion,  flirting  my  hoop  to  discover 
a  jet-black  shoe  and  brilliant  buckle.  Gad!  how  my 
little  heart  thrilled  to  hear  the  confused  raptures  of — 
*  Demme,  Jack,  what  a  delicate  foot!  '  *  Ha!  Gen 
eral,  what  a  well  turned ' 

Let.:  Fie!  fie!  Charlotte  (stopping  her  mouth}.  I 
protest  you  are  quite  a  libertine. 

Charl.:  Why,  my  dear  little  prude,  are  we  not  all 
such  libertines?  Do  you  think  when  I  sat  tortured 
two  hours  under  the  hands  of  my  friseur,  and  an  hour 
more  at  my  toilet,  that  I  had  any  thoughts  of  my 
aunt  Susan  or  my  cousin  Betsey  ?  though  they  are  both 
allowed  to  be  critical  judges  of  dress. 

299 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

Let . :  Why,  who  should  we  dress  to  please,  but  those 
who  are  judges  of  its  merit? 

CharL:  Why,  a  creature  who  does  not  know  Buff  on 
from  Souflee — Man! — my  Letitia — Man!  for  whom 
we  dress,  walk,  dance,  talk,  lisp,  languish,  and  smile. 
.  .  .  Why,  I  '11  undertake  with  one  flirt  of  this  hoop 
to  bring  more  beaux  to  my  feet  in  one  week  than  the 
grave  Maria  and  her  sentimental  circle  can  do  by 
sighing  sentiment  till  their  hairs  are  gray. 

Let.:  It  is  whispered  that  if  Maria  gives  her  hand 
to  Mr.  Dimple  it  will  be  without  her  heart. 

CharL :  Though  the  giving  of  the  heart  is  one  of  the 
last  of  all  laughable  considerations  in  the  marriage  of 
a  girl  of  spirit,  yet  I  should  like  to  hear  what  anti 
quated  notions  the  dear  little  piece  of  old  fashioned 
prudery  has  got  in  her  head. 

Let.:  .  .  .  Why,  she  read  Sir  Charles  Grandison, 
Clarissa  Harlow,  Shenstone,  and  the  Sentimental 
Journey,  and  between  whiles,  as  I  said,  Billy's  letters. 
But  as  her  taste  improved,  her  love  declined.  The 
contrast  was  so  striking  betwixt  the  good-sense  of  her 
books  and  the  flimsiness  of  her  love-letters,  that  she 
discovered  she  had  unthinkingly  engaged  her  hand 
without  her  heart;  and  then  the  whole  transaction 
managed  by  the  old  folks  now  appeared  so  unsenti 
mental  and  looked  so  like  bargaining  for  a  bale  of 
goods  that  she  found  she  ought  to  have  rejected,  ac 
cording  to  every  rule  of  romance,  even  the  man  of 

300 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

her  choice  if  imposed  upon  her  in  that  manner.  Clary 
Harlow  would  have  scorned  such  a  match. 

Chart.:  Well,  how  was  it  on  Mr.  Dimple's  return? 
Did  he  meet  a  more  favorable  reception  than  his  let 
ters? 

Let.:  Much  the  same.  She  spoke  of  him  with  re 
spect  abroad  and  with  contempt  in  her  closet.  She 
watched  his  conduct  and  conversation,  and  found  that 
he  had  by  travelling  acquired  the  wickedness  of  Love 
lace  without  his  wit,  and  the  politeness  of  Sir  Charles 
Grandison  without  his  generosity.  The  ruddy  youth 
who  washed  his  face  at  the  cistern  every  morning,  and 
swore  and  looked  eternal  love  and  constancy,  was  now 
metamorphosed  into  a  flippant,  pallid,  polite  beau, 
who  devotes  the  morning  to  his  toilet,  reads  a  few 
pages  of  Chesterfield's  letters,  and  then  minces  out,  to 
put  the  infamous  principles  in  practice  upon  every 
woman  he  meets. " 

Thus  the  conversation  proceeds,  relating  the 
idle  nothings  of  the  day.  And  thus,  too,  our 
New  England  lawyer-dramatist  strove  to 
arouse  once  more  the  waning  patriotism  of  the 
metropolis  of  the  New  World,  and,  in  a  new 
field,  to  make  American  humor  a  useful  agency 
to  American  democracy.  The  Eevolution  over, 
however,  and  the  nation  on  the  highway  to  pros 
perity,  most  of  the  plays  ceased  to  deal  with  the 

301 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

dangers  of  the  day,  and  existed  merely  for  the 
pleasure  that  they  gave.  Some  of  them  were 
crude;  some  of  them  were  rude;  and  several 
of  them  were  vulgar  to  an  extent  that  aston 
ishes  us  of  scarcely  a  century  later.  All  of  them 
were  lively  and  hearty,  however,  while  not  a 
few  contained  many  a  good  laugh  and  many  a 
jingle  that  caught  the  public  ear.  Now  and 
then  one  of  these  old  lyrics  is  wafted  down  to 
our  day;  such  as,  the  Sleighing  Song  from  the 
once  popular  Better  Sort,  or  the  Girl  of  Spirit 
(1789).  Hear  a  few  lines  from  a  "popular 
song  "  of  colonial  days: 

"  What  pleasure  can  compare 

To  a  sleighing  with  the  fair 
In  the   evening,    the    evening,  in   cold   and   frosty 

weather  ? 

When  rapidly  we  go 
As  we  jingle  o  'er  the  snow, 
And  tantarra,  huzza!     And  tantarra,  huzza! 

And  tantarra!  sings  every  brave  fellow! 

"  When  to  Watertown  we  get, 
And  the  turkey's  on  the  spit, 
And  we  dance,  boys,  and  dance,  boys,  and  drive  away 

all  sorrow, 

'Tis  then  your  milk  and  tea 
Give  place  to  strong  sangree, 
302 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

And  we  banish,  huzza !     We  banish,  huzza ! 

And  we  banish  the  cares  of  to-morrow ! 

11  Now  for  Boston  we  prepare, 

And  the  night  is  cold  and  clear, 
And  we're  stowing  close,  we're  stowing  close,  because 

it's  chilly  weather. 
O  then  what  fun  we  feel 
When  the  sleigh  it  takes  a  heel, 
And   we're   huddled,   huzza!     And   we're   huddled, 

huzza ! 
And  we're  huddled,  brave  boys,  altogether! 

"  'Tis  then  the  ladies  cry, 
0  lud !— 0  dear ! — 0  my ! 
And  we  scrabble,  boys,  we  scrabble,  boys,  all  from  the 

snowy  weather. 
Then  in  the  sleigh  again 
Do  we  scamper  o'er  the  plain, 
And  tantarra,  huzza,  tantarra,  huzza! 

And  tantarra!  sings  every  brave  fellow!  " 

WILLIAM  DUNLAP 

As  one  looks  over  these  first  attempts  in 
American  drama  one  is  inclined  to  wonder  why 
our  nation  has  reached  no  greater  heights  in 
this  field  of  literature.  There  was  life  in  those 
old  plays ;  there  was  frequently  a  vigorous  bit 
of  rhetoric;  there  was  undoubtedly  wit.  We 

303 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

might  point  out  as  another  example,  the  first 
American  tragedy  regularly  produced, .Leices 
ter,  performed  at  the  old  John  Street  Theatre 
in  New  York  in  1794, — a  play  so  high  in  tone 
and  striking  in  situation  that  it  is  by  no  means 
to  be  sneered  at.  Its  author,  William  Dunlap 
(1766-1839),  wrote  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  a 
successful  comedy  entitled  The  Father  of  an 
Only  Child;  and  one  may  well  doubt  whether 
there  is  living  to-day  in  America  a  man  of 
twenty-three  who  could  equal  it.  The  fame  of 
this  William  Dunlap  has  not  passed  away  even 
in  this  day.  The  Dunlap  Society  of  New  York 
City,  in  its  efforts  to  encourage  American  art, 
has  done  his  name  honor.  For  he  was  an  artist 
as  well  as  a  dramatist;  his  series  of  pictures 
on  Scriptural  subjects,  once  exhibited  through 
out  America,  do  indeed  great  credit  to  an  art 
in  its  infancy.  As  the  founder  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Design,  and  author  of  the  His 
tory  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  Art  of 
Design  in  the  United  States  (1834),  he  showed 
his  sincere  zeal  for  one  of  his  professions; 
while  through  his  History  of  the  American 
Theatre  (1832)  and  his  pleasing  plays,  he 
showed  his  knowledge  and  talent  in  the  other. 
That  the  old  days  were  not  destitute  of  hu- 

304 


THE  HUMOR  OF  THE  COLONIAL  STAGE 

mor  I  hope  I  have  proved.  Extracts  from 
Dunlap's  Father  of  an  Only  Child  would  but 
add  to  the  proof.  See  how  natural  the  dialogue 
is  in  this  old-time  drama.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Backet 
are  seated  at  breakfast.  Mr.  Racket  has 
doubtless  been  out  late  the  night  before,  as  he 
now  has  a  suspicious  black  patch  on  his  nose. 
With  his  weak  and  sleepy  eyes,  he  is  trying  at 
one  and  the  same  time  to  read  a  paper  and  lis 
ten  to  his  wife's  morning  discourse.  I  leave 
it  to  my  married  readers  as  to  whether  there  is 
any  truth  in  the  description. 


. . 


Racket.  Yaw !  yaw !  Curse  me  if  I  can  see  dis 
tinctly  this  morning.  Is  it  that  I  lack  sleep,  or  do  the 
printers  lack  new  types?  Go  on,  my  dear,  go  on:  I 
believe  you  were  speaking.  (Reads  again.) 

Mrs.  Rack.  (Rising  and  speaking  aside.)  This 
provoking  indifference  is  not  to  be  borne!  I  must 
rouse  him  from  it,  or  lose  all  hopes  of  happiness. 
(To  him.)  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Racket,  your  present 
behavior  is  neither  manly  nor  polite.  Contrary  to 
the  advice  of  Colonel  Campbell,  my  guardian,  I  threw 
myself  and  my  fortune  into  your  arms,  blindly  excus 
ing,  as  the  levities  of  youth,  your  noted  propensities 
to  vicious  dissipation. 

Rack.  (Reads.)  t  A  majority  of  thirty-one  in 
favor  of  adopting  it  with  amendments.'  Pray  sit 
20  305 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

down,  my  dear;  you  will  fatigue  yourself;  pray  sit 
down. 

Mrs.  Rack.  Sir,  this  is  adding  insult  to  injury! 
In  marrying  you,  I  risked  the  displeasure  of  all  my 
friends:  and  though  the  excellent  Colonel  Campbell, 
my  second  father,  yielded  to  my  will,  I  hazarded  by 
my  conduct  that  paternal  love  which  was  the  first  joy 
of  my  heart.  On  your  faith  I  staked  all. 

Rack.  Let  me  tell  you,  my  life,  you  are  a  des 
perate  gambler!  After  such  a  confession,  can  you 
ever  have  the  face  to  find  fault  with  my  staking  a  few 
hundreds  on  a  card? 

Mrs.  Rack.  I  deserve  the  reproach,  sir;  and  if  the 
game  was  yet  to  play (Pauses.) 

Rack.  Come,  there  is  some  spirit  in  that.  Go  on, 
madam. 

Mrs.  Rack.    Perhaps 

Rack.    You  would  play  the  same  stake  again. 

Mrs.  Rack.     What  is  my  gain  ? 

Rack.    A  husband. 

Mrs.  Rack.  Whose  face  I  never  see,  except  when 
excess  and  riot  have  made  it  unfit  for  public  view. 

Rack.  (Reads.)  l  And  we  hope  our  virtuous  exam 
ple  will  be  followed  by  all  our  fellow  citizens/ 

Mrs.  Rack.  (Walking  in  agitation.)  Virtuous 
example  truly!  O,  Mr.  Kacket,  we  have  been  mar 
ried  but  one  year,  and 

Rack.  (Rising  and  yawning.)  No  more!  It  has 
been  a  curst  long  year!  " 


306 


II 


It  is  high  time  that  we  bring  our  discussion 
of  colonial  humor  to  a  close.  How  much  it  is 
necessary  to  omit!  We  have  but  noted  here 
and  there  the  more  conspicuous  flows  in  the 
never-ceasing  current  of  laughter.  From  1607 
until  the  days  when  the  Republic  had  taken  a 
permanent  place  among  nations,  America  was 
never  without  its  store  of  witty  intellects. 
True,  there  were  blue  laws,  witch  burnings,  and 
Indian  massacres ;  but  in  spite  of  these  and  the 
sorrows,  superstitions,  and  unbending  theolo 
gies  the  people  saw  much  of  the  sunshine  and 
the  gladness  of  this  world.  Often  indeed  their 
laughter  was  full  of  bitter,  Hebraic  taunting; 
but  there  were  bitter  tyrants  and  bitter  hard 
ships,  be  it  remembered,  and  it  was  something 
of  a  wonder  that  at  times  there  was  any  joy 
whatever.  It  is  a  remarkable  testimony  to  the 
sturdiness  of  the  American  people,  that,  in 
spite  of  the  terrors  of  the  wilderness  and  the 

307 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 

terrors  of  tyrannical  misrule,  they  have  re 
tained  the  happy  faculty  of  being  able  to  see  a 
joke  and  return  it  with  interest.  May  they 
never  lose  that  faculty;  for  as  an  old  colonist, 
Jonathan  Sewall  of  New  Hampshire,  declares 
in  his  Eulogy  on  Laughing, 

"  It  makes  the  wheels  of  nature  gliblier  play; 

Dull  care  suppresses;  smoothes  life's  thorny  way; 
Propels  the  dancing  current  thro '  each  vein ; 
Braces  the  nerves;  corroborates  the  brain; 
Shakes  every  muscle,  and  throws  off  the  spleen." 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


The  following  books  and  periodicals  will  be  found  most 
useful  in  the  study  of  early  humor  in  America.  A  num 
ber  of  these  publications  may  be  secured  in  any  good  public 
or  college  library;  many  of  them,  unfortunately,  are  to  be 
found  in  only  the  largest  and  oldest  collections.  It  will  be  a 
glad  day  for  students  of  American  literature  when  some 
society  or  patriotic  individual  can  furnish  the  financial 
means  for  the  publication  in  inexpensive  form  of  these 
interesting  and  valuable  colonial  writings. 

ADAMS,  JOHN:  Letters,  Boston,  1841. 
ALLEN:  American  Biographical  Dictionary,  Boston,  1857. 
ALLIBONE:  Dictionary  of  Authors,  New  York. 
ALSOP:  Political  Green  House,  Hartford,  1799. 
American  Antiquarian  Society  Proceedings. 
-American  Chronicles  of  the  Times,  Philadelphia,  1774-75. 
American  Museum,  Philadelphia,  1787-92. 
ANDRE:  The  Cow-Chace,  New  York,  1780. 
ARBUTHNOT:  History  of  John  Bull,  New  York,  1789. 
Aristocracy,  Philadelphia,  1795. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  Boston. 

BANCROFT:  History  of  the  United  States,  New  York,  1791. 
BARLOW:   Columbiad,  Philadelphia,  1807. 
BARLOW  :  Conspiracy  of  Kings,  London,  1792. 
BARLOW:  Vision  of  Columbus,  Hartford,  1787. 
BARTON  :  Disappointment,  New  York,  1767. 

309 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Battle  of  Brooklyn:  A  Farce,  New  York,  1776. 

BEERS:   A    Century   of  American   Literature,   New  York, 
1878. 

BEERS:   Initial  Studies  in  American   Letters,  New  York, 
1892. 

BIGELOW:  Life  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  New  York. 

BLAUVELT:  Fashion's  Analysis,  New  York,  1807. 

Blockheads,  The,  A  Farce,  Boston,  1776. 

BRACKENRIDGE:  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  Philadelphia,  1776. 

BRACKENRIDGE  :  Death  of  General  Montgomery,  Philadel 
phia,  1777. 

BRACKENRIDGE:  Modern  Chivalry,  Pittsburgh,  1804. 

BRACKENRIDGE:  Six  Political  Discourses,  Lancaster,  1778. 
— -~-   BRADSHAW:    Southern   Poetry   Prior   to   1860,   Richmond, 

Virginia,  1900. 
-{  "••    BURTON  :  Cyclopedia  of  Wit  and  Humor,  New  York,  1858. 

BYLES:  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  Boston,  1744. 

BYLES:  The  Comet,  Boston,  1744. 

CAMPBELL  :  Anne  Bradstreet,  Boston,  1891. 

CAREY:  The  Plagi-Scurriliad,  Philadelphia,  1786. 

CAREY:  The  Porcupiniad,  Philadelphia,  1799. 

CLEMENS    (TWAIN)  :   Library   of  American  Humor,  New 
York. 

Columbian  Muse,  New  York,  1794. 

Connecticut  Journal  and  New  Haven  Post-Boy }  1770-73. 

COOK:  Sot-Weed   Factor,     Maryland    Historical     Society 
Fund  Publications,  1900,   No.  36. 

COOK:  Sot-Weed  Redivivus,  Maryland  Historical   Society 
Fund  Publications,  1900,  No.  36. 

DELANCEY:  Philip  Freneau,  1891. 

DELAPLAINE:   "Repository  of  Lives  and  Portraits  of  Dis 
tinguished  American  Characters,  Philadelphia,  1815-18. 

Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  London,  1890. 

310 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


DRAKE:  Dictionary  of  American  Biography,  Boston,  1872. 

BUTTON:  Present  State  of  Literature,  Hartford,  1800.  — 

DUYCKINCK:  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature,  New 
York,  1875. 

DUYCKINCK:  Poems  by  Philip  Freneau,  Philadelphia. 

DWIGHT:  Triumph  of  Infidelity,  1788. 

Echo,  The,  Hartford,  1807. 

ELIOT:  Biographical  Dictionary,  Boston,  1809. 

Encyclop&dia  Britannica. 

EVANS:  American  Bibliography,  Chicago,  1903-05. 

EVERETT:  Poets  of  Connecticut,  Hartford,  1844. 

Fall  of  British  Tyranny;  A  Tragi-Comedy,  Philadelphia, 
1776. 

FESSENDEN:  Democracy  Unveiled,  Boston,  1805. 

FESSENDEN:   Original  Poems,  London,  1804. 

FESSENDEN  :  Terrible  Tractoratum,  New  York,  1804. 

FISHER:  Men,  Women  and  Manners  of  Colonial  Times, 
Philadelphia,  1898. 

FISKE:  Appleton's  Cyclopedia  of  American  Biography, 
New  York,  1889. 

FORD:  Beginnings  of  American  Dramatic  Literature,  New 
York. 

FRENEAU:  Poems  Written  and  Published  during  the  Amer 
ican  Revolution,  Philadelphia,  1809. 

FRENEAU:  Miscellaneous  Works,  Philadelphia,  1788. 

GOODRICH  :  Recollections  of  a  Life  Time,  New  York,  1857. 

GREEN:  Entertainment  for  a  Winter's  Evening,  Boston, 
1750. 

GREGOIRE:  Critical  Observations  on  the  Columbiad,  Wash 
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GRIEVOUS,  PETER:  Congratulatory  Epistle  to  the  Redoubt 
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GRISWOLD:  Curiosities  of  American  Literature,  New  York. 

311 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


GRISWOLD  :  Female  Poets  of  America,  New  York,  1848. 

GRISWOLD:   Poets   and  Poetry  of  America,  Philadelphia, 
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HAVEN:  Catalogue  of  American  Publications,  Albany,  1874. 

HART  :  Manual  of  American  Literature,  New  York. 

HOLLIDAY:  A  History  of  Southern  Literature,  New  York, 
1906. 

HOLLIDAY:    The    Literature    of    Colonial    Virginia,    New 
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HOLLIDAY:    Three   Centuries   of  Southern   Poetry,   Nash 
ville,  1908. 

HOPKINS,  LEMUEL  :  The  Guillotine,  Philadelphia,  1796. 

HOPKINS,  LEMUEL:   The  Democratiad,  Philadelphia,  1795. 

HOPKINS,  JOSEPH:  The  Hamiltoniad,  Philadelphia,  1804. 

HOPKINSON:   Miscellaneous  Essays   and   Occasional   Writ 
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HOPKINSON  :  The  Old  Farm  and  the  New  Farm,  New  York, 
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HOWELL:  A  Fan  for  Fanning,  North  Carolina  Magazine, 
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Hows:  American  Poems,  New  York. 

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HUMPHREYS:  Miscellaneous  Works,  New  York,  1804. 

JACKSON:    Literary    History    of    Colonial    Pennsylvania, 
Lancaster,  1906. 

KETTELL:  Specimens  of  American  Poetry,  Boston,  1829. 

KNAPP  :  Eminent  Lawyers,  Statesmen,  and  Men  of  Let' 
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LIVINGSTON  :  Democracy,  New  York,  1790. 

LOSSING  :  TrumbulFs  McFingal,  New  York,  1881. 

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312 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


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MITCHELL:  American  Lands  and  Letters,  New  York,  1897. 

MOORE:   Diary  of  the  American  Revolution,  New  York, 
1860. 

MOORE:  Illustrated  Ballad  History  of  the  American  Revo 
lution,  New  York,  1876. 

MOORE:   Songs  and  Ballads  of  the  American  Revolution, 
New  York,  1856. 

MORRIS:   Half-Hours  with   the   Best  Humorous   Authors, 
Philadelphia. 

MORSE:  Benjamin  Franklin,  Boston,  1889. 

Motley  Assembly,  The,  A  Farce,  Boston,  1779. 

MUNFORD:  Poems,  Richmond,  1798. 

National    Portrait    Gallery    of    Distinguished    Americans, 
Philadelphia,  1835. 

NICHOLS  :  Select  Collection  of  Poems,  1780. 

ODELL:  The  American  Times,  New  York,  1780.— 

Olio,  Philadelphia,  1801. 

ONDERDONK  :  History  of  American  Verse,  Chicago,  1901. 

OSGOOD:   American  Colonies  in   the  Seventeenth  Century, 
New  York,  1904. 

OTIS  :  American  Verse,  New  York,  1909.  •*""""" 

PATTEE:  Poems  of  Philip  Freneau,  Princeton,  1902-07. 

Pennsylvania   Historical   Society   Publications. 

Pennsylvania  Magazine  of  History  and  Biography. 

Philadelphiensis,  Philadelphia,  1762. 

"Pilgarlic":  The  Albaniad,  1791. 

Prince  Society  Publications,  Boston. 

Rhode  Island  Historical  Society  Publications. 

RICHARDSON:  American  Literature,  New  York,  1887-89. 

RIGGS:  The  Anarchiad,  New  Haven,  1861. 

RUTHERFORD:  American  Literature,  Atlanta, 

313 


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SABIN:  Bibliotheca  Americana,  New  York,  1868. 

SABINE:  Biographical  Sketches  of  Loyalists,  Boston,  1864. 

SANDERSON:  Biography  of  the  Signers  of  the  Declaration, 
Philadelphia,  1827. 

SARGENT:  Loyalist  Poetry  of  the  'Revolution,  Philadelphia, 
1857. 

SARGENT:  Loyal  Verses  of  Stansbury  and  Odell,  Albany, 

1860. 

•  SEARS:  American  Literature  in  the  Colonial  and  National 
Periods,  Boston,  1902. 

SEARSON:  Poems  on  Various  Subjects,  Philadelphia,  1797. 

SEDGWICK  :  William  Livingston,  New  York,  1833. 

SEWALL:  Miscellaneous  Poems,  Portsmouth,  1801. 

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rington,  New  York. 

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SHEA:   Alsop's   Character   of  the  Province  of  Maryland, 
New  York,  1869. 

SHEA:  Early  Southern  Tracts,  1866. 

SMITH:  American  Poems,  1793. 

SMITH:  Foundation  of  the  American  Colonies. 

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STEDMAN:  American  Anthology,  Boston. 

«•- ~- STEDMAN:  Poets  of  America,  Boston,  1885. 

STEDMAN  and  HUTCHINSON:  Library  of  American  Litera 
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STONE  :  Ballads  and  Poems  Relating  to  the  Burgoyne  Cam 
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TAPPAN  :  America's  Literature,  Boston. 

THOMAS:  History  of  Printing  in  America. 

314 


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THOMPSON:   New  England's   Crisis,  In  the  Club  of   Odd 

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TOUCHSTONE:  The  House  of  Wisdom  in  a  Bustle,  Phila 
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TRENT:  History  of  American  Literature,  New  York,  1903. 
TRENT  and  WELLS:  Colonial  Prose  and  Poetry,  New  York, 

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TRUMBULL:  Poetical  Works,  Hartford,  1820. 
TUDOR  :  Life  of  James  Otis. 
TYLER:  History  of  American  Literature  during  the  Colonial' 

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TYLER:  Three  Men  of  Letters,  New  York. 
WARREN  :  The  Adulateur,  Boston,  1775. 
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WATSON:  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  Philadelphia. 
WEGELIN:  Early  American  Poetry,  New  York,  1903. 
WENDELL  :  Literary  History  of  America,  Boston,  1900. 
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315 


INDEX 


Adams,  John,  82,  97,  146,  206,  287, 

291 

Adams,  Samuel,  96,  248,  291 
Address  to  the  Armies,  248 
Address  to  the  Troops,  98 
Adulator,  The,  291 
Advice  to  Privileged  Classes,  255 
Alsop,  George,  33 
Alsop  Richard,  229,  239,  243,  245, 

262 

America  Independent,  187 
American  Chronicles,  94 
Americans  Roused,  291 
American  Times,  128,  129 
Ames,  Nathaniel,  67 
Anarchiad,  The,  233,  237,  271 
Anderson,  Hugh,  92 
Another  Prophecy,  100 
Astronomical  Diary  and  Almanac,  67 
Autobiography,  Franklin,  79 

B 

Barlow,  Joel,  229,  232,  243,  245,  252 

"Barton,  Andrew,"  290 

Battle  of  King's  Mountain,  117 

Battle  of  the  Kegs,  149 

Bay  Psalm  Book,  43 

Better  Sort,  302 

Birds,  the  Beasts,  and  the  Bat,  The, 

161 

Blockade,  The,  295 
Block-Heads,  The,  295 
Body  of  Liberties,  19 


Brackenridge,  Hugh,  175,  239,  272 

Bradstreet,  Anne,  31 

Bunker  Hill,  275 

Byles,  Mather,  53,  60 

Byrd  Manuscripts,  50 

Byrd,  William,  45 


Character  of  Maryland,  33 
Charms  of  Fancy,  263 
Cogswell,  M.  F.,  229 
Columbiad,  The,  232,  256 
Congratulation,  The,  128 
Congress,  The,  110 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  246 
Conspiracy  of  Kings,  243,  255 
Contrast,  The,  296,  297 
Cook,  Eben,  38 
Correspondent,  The,  204,  206 
Cotton,  John,  19,  54 
Count  de  Schaumbergh,  86 
Crispin  O'Connor's  Answer,  177 


Dance,  The,  122 

Death  of  Mr.  Old  Tenor,  59 

Death-Song  of  a  Cherokee  Indian,  171 

Destruction  of  Babylon,  207 

Dialogue  with  the  Gout,  83 

Douglas,  David,  92 

Douglass,  William,  65 

Dudley,  Thomas,  31 

Duffield,  George,  132 

Dunlap,  William,  303 


317 


INDEX 


Dwight,   Theodore,   229,   239,   245, 

267 
Dwight,   Timothy,    228,    229,   235, 

245,  246,  287 

E 

Echo,  The,  239,  243,  253,  262,  264, 
271 

Edict  by  the  King  of  Prussia,  86 

Elegy  on  the  Times,  207 

Enchanted  Lake,  The,  262 

Entertainment  for  a  Winter's  Even 
ing,  58 

Eulogy  on  Laughing,  308 

Eutaw  Springs,  170 


F 

Fall  of  British  Tyranny,  292 

Fate  of  John  Burgoyne  120 

Father  Abraham's  Speech,  77 

Father  of  an  Only  Child,  304 

Female  Frailty,  178 

Feu  de  Joie,  128 

First  Book  of  the  American  Chronicle, 

167 

Force  of  Credulity,  290 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  28,  50,  64,  69, 

70,  165,  248 
Freneau,  Philip,  124,  170,  274 


General  Gage's  Confession,  175 
General  Gage's  Soliloquy,  182 
Godfrey,  Thomas,  290 
Good  Spec,  297 
Green,  Joseph,  53,  58 
Greenfield  Hill,  246 


Hancock,  John,  239,  264,  292 
Happiness  of  America,  248 


Hartford  Wits,  124,  227,  228 
Hasty  Pudding,  252,  256,  258 
Higginson,  Francis,  16 
History  of  Carolina,  44 
History  of  the  Dividing  Line,  47 
Hopkins,  Lemuel,  229,  235,  240,  245, 

267 

Hopkinson,  Francis,  124,  145 
Humphreys,  David,  229,  245,  247 
Hymn  Written  during  a  Voyage,  60 


Incidents  of  the  Insurrection,  277 
Indian  Burying-Ground .  170,  171 


Jefferson,  Thomas,  45,  50,  71,  80, 
231,  235,  236,  240,  243,  244,  248, 
269,  287 

Journey  to  the  Land  of  Eden,  47 


Lady's  Singing  Bird,  173 

Lawson,  John,  44 

Leicester,  304 

Letters  of  Cato,  165 

Letter  Written  by  a  Foreigner,  154 

Libera  Nos,  Domine,  182,  185 

Livingston,  William,  288 


M 

McFingal,  208,  209,  210,  217 

MacSwiggen,  182 

May  Day  in  Town,  297 

Meddler,  The,  202 

Midnight  Consultations,  182 

Modern  Catechism,  113 

Modern  Chivalry,  273,  277,  278,  279 

Monkey,  The,  250 

Morton,  Thomas,  29 


318 


INDEX 


N 

Narrative  of  Georgia,  91 
New  England  Courant,  72 
New  England  Plantations,  16 
New  England  Primer,  43 
New  England's  Prospect,  17,  31 
New  English  Canaan,  30 
New  Song  to  an  Old  Tune,  99 
Newspaper  Thunder  Storm,  263 
Noyea,  Nicholas,  38 


Odell,  Jonathan,  124,  125 

Ode  to  Columbia,  246 

On  the  Conquest  of  America,  182 

On  the  Ruins  of  a  Country  Inn,  173 


Paine,  Thomas,  112,  133,  136,  161, 

187,  209 
Paper,  76 
Parody  on  Hancock's  Proclamation, 

264 

Parting  Glass,  The,  173 
Pausing  Loyalist,  The,  109 
Pennsylvania  Gazette,  73,  165 
Poem:      Sacred    to    the    Memory    of 

George  Washington,  262 
Poetico-Political  Olio,  243 
Political  Balance,  192 
Political  Catechism,  148 
Political  Green-House,  242,  243,  271 
Ponteach,  290 

Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  73,  76 
Pory,  John,  16,  37 
Power  of  Fancy,  171 
Pretty  Story,  148,  155 
Prince  of  Parthia,  290 
Prison-Ship,  185,  189 
Progress  of  Dulness,  206,  210,  211 
Progress  to  the  Mines,  47 
Prophecy,  A,  180 
Prophecy,  The,  148,  165 


Prophecy  of  Balaam,  The,  207 
Prophet  Jonah,  171 
Prospect  of  Peace,  252 
Pyramids  of  Egypt,  171 


Rebels,  The,  111 

Rising  Glory  of  America,  175,  275 

Rivington,  James,  103,  167 

Rogers,  Robert,  290 

Rules  for  Reducing  a  Great  Empire, 


Sewall,  Jonathan,  291,  308 

Sherman,  John,  30 

Shuckburg,  Richard,  115 

Simple  Cobbler  of  Aggawam,  20,  33, 

35,37 

Six  Political  Discourses,  276 
Sleighing  Song,  302 
Smyth,  John  F.,  Ill 
Song  of  Thyrsis,  178 
Song  to  the  Guillotine,  255 
Sot  Weed  Factor,  The,  38 
Specimens  of  a  Modern  Law  Suit,  167 
Stansbury,  Joseph,  124,  137 
St.  John,  Peter,  118 
Stone,  Samuel,  30 
Summary  of  the  British  Settlement*, 

65 


Tailfer,  Patrick,  91 

Taxation  of  America,  118 

Thompson,  Benjamin,  32 

To  a  Honey  Bee,  173 

Tory  Satires,  107 

Treaty,  The,  147 

Triumph  of  Infidelity,  228 

True  Relation,  16 

Trumbull,  John,  124,  199,  229,  245. 

247,  252 
Tyler,  Royall,  295 


319 


INDEX 


Victim  of  the  Cancer  Quack,  269 
Virginia  Banishing  Tea,  97 
Vision  of  Columbus,  253,  256 
Voyage  to  Boston,  175 

W 

Ward,  Nathaniel,  17,  33 
Warren,  Mercy,  291,  295 
Washington's     Dinner     Invitation, 
288 


Wasp,  The,  163 
Westover  Manuscripts,  50 
Wild  Honey-Suckle,  170,  173 
Witherspoon'a   Parody   on    Riving- 

ton,  104 

Wood,  William,  17,  31 
Word  of  Congress,  128 


Yankee  Doodle,  1 14 
Yankee  in  London,  296 


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